Strange Connections
by CrimsonSnowflake
Summary: "Would you like to come with me then?" were the fatefull words that would eventually lead to Harry's involvement with the Ring and the Fellowship. Struggling to regain his lost magic, Harry is thrown into a journey he had never expected, a journey that, in the end, would reveal a most strange connection. SLASH!
1. Prologue

**Important warning! This story will contain Slash (boy on boy action) for those of you who are offended by that I suggest turning around and finding another story to read! **

**Title: **

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta: **Beautifully Shattered

**Warning:** This story is an M rated story, this means that there will be contents in the story not suitable for the younger people out there, I'll be writing warnings on each chapter so make sure to keep an eye out, 'cause I'll announce whenever something mature is included.

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **As I announced a couple of months ago, I've had the urge to write another HP/Lotr crossover for some time now and finally I feel as if I have written enough to begin posting. Though the pairing is the same as the one in Fighting Another War, I will be doing my very best to make the contents of this story as different from that as possible and hopefully I'll manage to avoid doing the same mistakes as I did in FAW and write a much more thought through story where I don't come up with things as I go that might contrast with what I've previously written.

Anyway, I hope the story will be to your satisfaction and I look forward to going on another HP/Lotr crossover journey with you all!

Love,

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"Do you want to know who you are? Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you." - Thomas Jefferson , 1743-1826_

* * *

**Prologue**

It was raining, Harry numbly observed as a cold drop splashed on his right cheek, closely followed by a second one on his closed eyelid. Slowly, he opened his eyes, coming face to face with the gloomy, grey sky. Heavy clouds with dark grey linings hovered above him. The world was moving, he realized, slowly passing by as the sound of wheels churning against a pebble covered ground reached his ears.

Sitting up, he took in his surroundings, noting that he had somehow ended up on a wooden wagon. A tall figure clothed in grey sat at the head of it, steering a brown horse with gentle movements. A long stick, which Harry assumed to be a walking stick, rested between the man's—for he could be nothing but a man—elbow and thigh, shifting ever so slightly whenever the man moved the wooden pipe he was so contently smoking on. Every inhale was followed by an exhale, and every exhale would bring with it a small stream of smoke, as grey as everything else seemed to be, dancing up into the air.

"Excuse me, sir." Harry hesitantly spoke up, unsure if having the man's attention was a good thing, but knowing it was a necessity in order to figure out where he was.

The man seemed to startle, nearly dropping his pipe in surprise before turning around to face Harry.

"Oh, you're awake," he stated, running a large hand through his rather impressive beard. "How are you feeling? Not too out of it I hope."

"W-where am I?" Harry questioned, stuttering slightly.

"We are a three days ride from Bree. I found you unconscious by Fornost and took you with me. I asked along the way, of course, but it seems that no one is missing a child."

Harry blinked. "Bree? I've never heard of Bree, is it far from London?"

Gandalf's eyes narrowed at his words. The young boy, he mused, was certainly a long way from home. Gandalf had never heard of this London and by the looks of it his companion had never heard of Bree either. This, coupled with the strange clothes the boy wore and the lingering presence of magic surrounding him, made Gandalf quite suspicious. And soon enough his suspicions turned into theories.

"Quite far, I'd imagine," he said, turning around to concentrate on steering the wagon. "This London of yours, where does it lie?"

"Well," Harry began, looking puzzled at the old man's back, "southeast in England, of course."

"Of course," Gandalf murmured to himself before turning to Harry with a small, almost concerned smile, "then I am afraid you have travelled quite the distance, my boy. There is no London, nor England in Middle-Earth. But I suspect you're not from Middle-Earth, are you?"

"No… I-I don't think so." Harry's bottom lip trembled when he answered; his green eyes were wide and brimming with unshed tears. He could barely keep his hands still as they fidgeted in his lap, wanting something—preferably his beloved wand—to occupy themselves with.

"Would you like to come with me then?"

* * *

Gandalf, Harry learned after a week of travel, was a wizard. Not anything Harry had ever encountered, for instance he did none of the small pieces of magic that he had learnt of at Hogwarts, every magic the old man performed was always something big and unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Though, the difference between their magic did not at all bother him. In fact, him knowing that Gandalf was a wizard, was, essentially, what had made it so easy for him to open up to the man. And when his bubble had finally been popped, all its contents came pouring out, from his time growing up in the Dursley household to his more recent encounter with the Basilisk and one Tom Riddle.

"We should make camp," Gandalf told Harry, shifting in his seat and stretching his feet. They had been on the move for the entire day, having broken camp at dawn. "See if you can find some firewood."

Harry jumped off the still moving wagon, stumbling slightly as the momentum caught him off guard, though he quickly steadied himself. His time with Gandalf had put some meat on his bones, granted, he was nowhere near the size some of his peers could be, but he wasn't so small as to be confused with an 8 year old either. The effects of growing up with the Dursleys would never completely disappear, he would never be the tallest of men, nor would he be of the broadest, but because of Gandalf he would certainly be more than he would have had he stayed with his dear aunt and uncle.

Noting the direction in which the wagon continued Harry began his search for firewood. It didn't take him long—a half an hour at the most—and soon enough began tracing the wheel tracks left behind by the wagon. The sun had yet to set and so Harry took his time, deciding to enjoy the scenery surrounding him, knowing that there was no need to hurry.

He had, after days of forcing back rivers of tears and being comforted by Gandalf, finally come to terms with the fact that he would never be able to return to his own world. And should the opportunity to return ever come up again he was certain that he would refuse, his magic was everything to him and if the journey over had drained him of so much, the journey back would most likely drain the rest of it. He had lived most of his life—eleven years of it, in fact—without magic, having slaved away and done whatever chore that had popped into his uncle's feeble mind without complaint. His two years of knowing magic had been heaven when compared to that and he refused to give up the one thing that had made his life bearable. And while he had become quite attached to his friends in the wizarding world, he found that the thought of living without them was not as unbearable as the thought of living without magic.

Yes, he mused as Gandalf and their resting place came into view, he could live quite comfortably knowing that he would never see his world again, so long as he had his magic and Gandalf at his side. Besides, Middle-Earth didn't seem like such a bad place to be stranded in, in fact, he found he quite liked it here. While a bit primitive in the travelling department—Harry had been very fond of travelling with trains, after all—it was a far cry from his world with its humongous buildings and polluted air.

"We'll reach the Shire in four days," said Gandalf when Harry dropped the firewood and began the process of building a fire. The wizard hesitated, drawing a deep breath—as if steeling himself—before continuing. "When we do I want you to stay there with an old friend of mine."

Harry looked up in alarm, dropping the flint stone cradled in his hand. "You're leaving me?!"

"Harry," Gandalf looked pained, "travelling with me is a most dangerous thing to do, Bilbo will provide you with the safety a boy of your age needs to grow up in."

"I don't care if it's dangerous, you can't just leave me with some stranger!" He choked on the last few words, the prospect of being left behind having worked him up to the point of tears.

"He has a comfortable home, a bed for you to sleep in, food for you to eat and a nephew who you can play with." The old man continued on as if Harry hadn't said a word.

"I get all I need from you; I'm fine with _you_..." Harry trembled, clenching his hands into tight fists.

"This isn't up for discussion, Harry. I cannot afford to drag you with me into danger, you don't have your magic to protect you any longer and not only would that leave me at a disadvantage, but it would most likely be the death of you as well. You're too young and untrained." Gandalf had hoped to avoid this, had wished that Harry would accept his words without putting up an argument, thus sparing Gandalf from having to be so harsh.

Gandalf reached out to gently run his hand through Harry's unruly hair, frowning when the boy stubbornly moved out of reach. He sighed, giving his charge a weak smile before accepting that Harry would not come to terms with this yet. Fortunately, he had four days to convince him. "You should get some sleep; we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

There was still a palpable tension between them when they broke camp and set off the next morning. Harry, it seemed, was determined to ignore any and all attempts that Gandalf made to bring up their conversation again, resulting in a rather quiet afternoon. In fact, the rest of their journey was spent in this tense silence and when the day that they'd reach Bilbo's home finally came Harry had not uttered a word. Gandalf wasn't worried about Harry's lack of speech, he had experienced stubborn children before, but he was worried about how Harry would react when the time for Gandalf to leave came. He'd hate for his last meeting with Harry be one of argument. Who knew how long it would be before he could see him again.

It became more and more obvious, as the day went by, that they had crossed the borders of the Shire. The houses and the people grew smaller, catching Harry's attention and eventually luring him out of his silence in order to question Gandalf about the creatures he would be staying with.

"This friend of yours, he's not human, is he?" Harry questioned, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be ignoring his caretaker.

"No, he is not. Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit, one of the most peaceful and friendly creatures I know."

"A hobbit?" The young boy leaned forward, watching as several small men with abnormally large feet tended to a large field. He nodded his head towards them, "are those hobbits, then?"

"Yes," Gandalf said before continuing with a humorous smile on his face, "Though you won't find Bilbo tending to the fields, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" Harry tilted his head in a questioning manner.

"Well you could, when he was younger, but—in a manner—you could say that I've corrupted him."

"Corrupted him?" A small smirk slowly spread across Harry's face as he quirked an eyebrow at his caretaker.

"You see, I brought him with me on a little adventure of mine and, well, let's just say that regrettably I am no longer particularly well liked in the Shire." By the amused glint in his eyes and the way his mouth quirked up in a smile the wizard did not seem to think it _was_ all that regrettable.

Harry snorted, watching as several grumpy looking hobbits threw Gandalf a glare when they finally recognized him. "I can see that."

Once again silence settled between them, though this time it was not filled with the tension that had lingered for the last few days. In fact, Harry even found it within himself to move forward and take a seat beside Gandalf, leaning against the old man in order to rest his head and close his tired eyes. It had been a long day of travelling, evening was right around the corner and Harry was beginning to feel the effects of having been in the wagon all day. His body ached and he would have liked nothing more than for them to make camp so he could stretch out his pained limbs. It was not to be though. Gandalf had made it perfectly clear that they would not be stopping until they had reached Bag End. Harry could get some rest there, he had said, and in a proper bed at that.

He would have much rather preferred the cold, hard ground over a warm, soft bed any day so long as he got to stay with Gandalf.

Despite his best efforts not to he must have nodded off for a moment, for the next thing he knew was Gandalf's large hand gently shaking him and his soothing voice telling him that they had finally arrived. Gently, Harry rubbed the last trace of sleep from his eyes, blinking twice before focusing on the house he would be living in from now on. It looked, he regretted to admit, very cosy with its garden in full bloom and the house that seemed to have been carved from the small hillside.

And right outside the door stood one Bilbo Baggins.

"Gandalf," he cried with obvious pleasure as he nearly ran down the small set of stairs and towards the gate separating them, "at last you are here. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't make it before nightfall."

"Bilbo," Gandalf chuckled with equal pleasure, "how have you been? Not too restless I hope."

"Oh, you know me," the hobbit said when he finally reached them, "I always find something to occupy my time with, whether it is adventurous or not. Now, who is it that you've brought with you?"

Gandalf stepped aside and indicated for Harry to move forward. "This is Harry, my charge and coincidentally the reason for this visit."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, young Harry. Now if you'd both come in, supper is already on the table and I'm sure you are both famished after a long day's travel." Cheerfully, the small man ushered them into his house.

The inside of the house was just as cosy as the outside had been, and though the ceiling hung quite low Harry was, fortunately, short enough so that he could stand comfortably without having to crouch. The same could not be said for Gandalf. The old man, already quite tall, seemed to have become a giant within Bilbo's home and struggled under the low ceiling, bumping his head so often that Harry found it hard to repress his amusement.

Bilbo led them through what appeared to be the living room and into the kitchen. A small figure was seated by the wooden table that dominated the most of the room and Harry turned a curious gaze on the small, wide eyed hobbit.

"This is my nephew, Frodo," Bilbo said as he gathered tow large mugs of ale and a tall carafe filled with water, "Frodo, this is Harry, Gandalf's charge."

The young hobbit smiled shyly, giving a small wave when Bilbo gestured towards him. Frodo watched his uncle fondly for a moment when the older hobbit immediately broke into a new wave of cheerful chatter before gesturing for Harry to take a seat beside him. "Join me," he said, "When the two of them begin chatting there's nothing stopping them and everyone around them has to accept that they'll be ignored for the most of the evening and seek each other's company instead."

"They have to have known each other for quite some time then," Harry commented, shifting in his seat so he could keep both Bilbo and Gandalf in view while at the same time keeping his attention on Frodo.

"Oh yes, years." Frodo poured two glasses of water, handing Harry one before beginning to load his plate with food. "I take it Gandalf hasn't told you of their adventure then."

"No," Harry hesitated for a moment, "he said something about having corrupted Bilbo, but nothing else."

"They travelled to the Lonely Mountain with a company of dwarves to recover the lost treasure guarded by the dragon Smaug. According to what Bilbo told me they encountered many creatures, goblins, trolls and even elves! Bilbo always likes to speak of how they were nearly roasted on the fire and eaten by the trolls. I'm sure he'd tell you as well, if you'd like." Frodo smiled, his blue eyes shining in excitement.

"Perhaps," Harry shrugged; still containing a small sliver of hope that Gandalf would somehow change his mind and see things Harry's way before the night was over.

Their conversation continued in that manner, light chatter that occasionally drew a small laugh. The topics were tentative; as they usually were when talking to someone who was practically a stranger, though from the small amount of time he had spent with the young hobbit Harry could honestly say that he liked him. To begin with, Frodo, unlike his uncle, seemed a bit shy, though the more they spoke the more the hobbit opened up.

After having finished supper they retreated to the living room, each taking a seat in front of the crackling fire. Once again Harry began feeling the effects of their journey, his eyes grew heavy and stung in retaliation when he refused to let them fall closed. He barely managed to pay attention when Gandalf finally breeched the subject of why they were there in the first place.

"I have a favour to ask of you, my friend." Gandalf sipped at his ale, staring into the fire. "I'm afraid it isn't safe for me to bring Harry with me on my journey, he needs a place to stay."

"And you want me to take him in," Bilbo finished for the old wizard, pressing some longbottom leaves in the chamber of his pipe.

"The idea occurred to me, yes."

"I see, well coincidentally I have a free room and I'm sure Frodo wouldn't mind having another person in the house. " A hissing sound cut through the air as Bilbo struck up a match.

"Good," Gandalf murmured, running a hand through his beard as he always did when he was particularly comfortable, "I'll be leaving him in your capable hands then."

Bilbo turned to get a better look at his new charge, taking in the unruly hair and those big, almost unnaturally green eyes. An unusual colour for an unusual child, he mused. For a moment he wondered where the boy's parents were and when Harry's eyes flashed even brighter he began considering the possibility of him not being entirely human. He would have to ask Gandalf.

"Frodo, my dear boy, would you mind showing Harry the guestroom? I'm sure he must be tired." He gently patted his nephew's shoulder, smiling down at him.

"Of course, Bilbo."

When the two of them were out of sight, Bilbo once again turned towards Gandalf, though this time the cheer that had surrounded him for the entirety of the evening was gone. "He is not of the race of men, is he?"

Gandalf sighed, knowing it would come up. "No, he is not. There's magic within him, not much, but it's there."

"He's a wizard then. How will this affect him and his stay here? Will it have any consequences?"

"It shouldn't, he has such a small amount that as long as it's not harnessed it won't accidentally lash out, though you might discover that he has some enhanced abilities."

"I see," Bilbo murmured, drawing a deep breath, "and you don't want to harness it?"

"No, it's too early, it has to wait until he's older and the amount of magic has become more stable, otherwise he might exhaust his reserves and lose the magic forever."

"So no magic then," Bilbo quipped, attempting to lighten up their conversation.

Gandalf chuckled lightly. "Yes, no magic."

* * *

"You'll visit, right?" Harry whispered as he moved forward to hug Gandalf around the waist. "You won't leave and never come back?"

"My leaving isn't for forever, Harry, I'll be returning as soon as I can to check up on you." The old wizard gently carded his hands through Harry's hair, smiling in amusement when the already ruffled hair became even more of a tangled mess.

"Do you promise?" Harry looked up, green eyes shining with determination making it all too obvious that Gandalf wouldn't get away with not promising.

"Yes, I do. I promise to return to you at least once a year and even bring a gift with me, think of it as your birthday."

"My birthday is on the 31st of July," Harry dryly commented.

"Well think of the gift as an early or belated birthday present then, depending on when I come."

Nodding, the young boy once again stepped forward and bestowed another hug upon his caretaker, gently whispering in his ear right before he retreated, "Make sure the gift is a good one then."

"Of course," Gandalf chuckled before moving on to say his goodbyes to Bilbo and Frodo.

"Make sure you take good care of my boy now, Bilbo," The two clasped hands, smiling at each other.

"Don't you worry Gandalf; Harry here will be so well taken care of that you'll hardly recognize him when you return." Bilbo positively beamed.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Gandalf murmured while turning towards Frodo, "Keep a firm eye on them for me, would you Frodo, my lad? I'm afraid you have more sense than the two of them put together."

Frodo laughed, his blue eyes sparkling in pleasure. "They won't leave my sight for even a second."

"Then my mind will be at rest."

Gracefully, despite his old age, Gandalf climbed into the wagon, accepting his staff from Frodo when he was comfortably seated. Grabbing the reins with one hand Gandalf gave one final wave with the other before gently urging his horse into a trot.

He disappeared from view far too quickly in Harry's opinion.

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful people that took the time out of their lives to give me advice on how I could improve from my previous Hp/Lotr crossover._


	2. The Beginning

**Title: **Strange Connections

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta:** Beautifully Shattered

**Warning:** Nothing you need to look out for in this chapter, it's safe kids!

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:  
**Yaaaaay! The first chapter is here you guys! I know some of you perhaps expected to witness Harry growing up, but I decided that writing several chapters to give you a view of how Harry's past years with the hobbits had been, would be a waste of time. I would much rather get on with the story and the plot. Hopefully you'll agreee with me on that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I wouldn't mind getting some feedback, reviews inspires me to write and I always find that your comments are very useful when it comes to developing ideas for the plot. All of a sudden one of you points out something I've never thought of and get my little grey cells working! :)

Love,

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." - Buddha_

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

Six years later

The smell of freshly baked bread floated up into his nose as he carefully took the loaf out of the oven and set it down on the counter by the window for it to cool down. Humming to himself, Harry moved over to the frying pan and grabbed a hold of the wooden hilt of the only spatula they had in the Baggins household, gently stirring the pile of scrambled eggs he was currently frying. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the prospect of breakfast.

A chorus of loud snores echoed through the house, a sound that had accompanied him in his early morning routine for the last six years. After Gandalf had left him in Bag End, Harry had taken it upon himself to do most of the cooking, attempting to at least make himself useful to the man that had so graciously taken him in. Though in the beginning Bilbo had protested most profoundly, it hadn't taken much to change his mind. The old hobbit had never been particularly fond of cooking, and as he and Frodo had barely possessed enough culinary skill between them to keep themselves alive, Harry's experience with a skillet had been heaven sent. So they had settled into a routine, Harry did the cooking, while Frodo and Bilbo took care of the cleaning.

Grabbing a hold of a bucket, Harry made his way outside to the well that was situated behind the house, shadowed by a large oak tree. The leaves rustled, dancing in the wind as Harry approached and set the bucket down on the rim of the well in order to tie the rope around its handle. A quick drop and a splash later found Harry slowly pulling the now filled bucket up from the well's dark depths. Carefully, so as not to spill the water, Harry walked back to the house, only stopping once when a particularly strong gust of wind ravished him.

Frodo and Bilbo were still sleeping when he crossed the doorway, their snores sounding as strong as ever. He would have to wake them today as well then; Harry poured the cold water into a carafe before wiping off his hands on his shirt and moving towards Frodo's room.

"Frodo," He called, gently knocking on the door before opening it.

The room was shrouded in darkness, only a few strings of light peeked out from behind the young hobbit's dark curtains. The air was heavy, making it clear that Frodo hadn't bothered to let in some fresh air before he'd gone to bed the night before. With quiet steps Harry moved towards the window, pushing aside the curtains and throwing it open. He breathed in the wave of fresh air before steeling himself and turning towards the only bed in the room.

"Time to wake up, Frodo," he grabbed a hold of a shoulder and gently shook it. A foot suddenly shot out, attempting to catch him in his chest. Harry laughed, jumping out of its way before ripping Frodo's quilt away from him. "Come on, breakfast is ready and we've got things to do today!"

"Oh shut up, Harry," Frodo groaned, glaring at him, "Why do you always have to be so insufferably cheerful in the morning?"

"Because someone has to make up for your grumpiness, naturally," Harry threw back, neatly folding and placing the quilt on the chair situated beside the bed before exiting the room and moving on to wake up the eldest member in the house.

Before long the three of them were situated around the kitchen table, eating Harry's carefully prepared breakfast, while discussing their plans for the day and most importantly the big event that would take place that very night.

"Gandalf is due to visit soon," Bilbo commented lightly, steering the conversation away from the topic of his birthday, after taking a sip of his tea.

Harry lathered a piece of bread with some butter, "It's been a while since we last saw him, hasn't it...?"

"Too long," Frodo piped up.

"Do you think he'll make it in time for tonight?" Green eyes turned to gaze questioningly at Bilbo. It had been over a year since he had last seen the old wizard. It worried him, as Gandalf had always made sure that no more than 10 months passed between each visit.

"Of course he will," Bilbo chuckled, cutting himself a slice of cheese, "he wouldn't dare come late to my birthday party."

"Good," Harry said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Bilbo was usually right when it came to predicting Gandalf's visits and Harry trusted him when he said that the wizard would show up. The old hobbit had, after all, yet to be wrong in the matter.

"I expect you to vacate the premises today," Bilbo began when breakfast came to an end, "I'd like some peace and quiet to finish my book and the Valar knows I won't get it with the two of you wandering about in the house."

"In other words," Frodo said as he began clearing the table, "We'll have to take care of all the preparations for tonight while you get to relax and finish a book that's practically finished to begin with."

"Exactly."

* * *

The day passed quickly in a blur of chores, barely giving Harry the time to take a moment and breathe. Within an hour Frodo had bailed on him, leaving Harry to sort out everything that needed to be taken care of. And what a nightmare it had been. After several failed attempts—where there had been more incidents than he was comfortable with—Harry and his helpers had finally managed to begin setting up the tents, tables and decorations. Time flew by and by the time they were finished with the preparations there was only an hour left until the festivities were to begin.

"I'll leave everything in your hands then, Rosie," Harry murmured to the short blonde beside him, the two of them observing as the last touches were applied and the food and beverages were brought out.

He was absolutely exhausted and to be honest, the prospect of spending the entire evening—and most likely night as well—in the middle of a rowdy celebration, as it was Bilbo's birthday parties usually tended to get out of hand, was far from tempting. All he wanted to do was to get some food and then crawl into his warm, soft bed for a nice, long night of sleep.

"Don't worry," Rosie smiled, grabbing his right hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, "You go and get yourself some food and change into some new clothes, I'll make sure they don't destroy anything."

"Thank you, Rosie; I don't know how I'd have managed today without you."

"There's nothing to thank for, I wouldn't have let you deal with it on your own even if you wanted to." She laughed, releasing his hand and giving him a little push, "Now go!"

"I'll see you later, then."

With a small wave Harry began making his way up the hill, knowing that Rosie would keep things in order. It didn't take long before he reached the house, faltering in his step when he caught eye of a worn looking horse strapped to an old, very familiar looking wagon. He came to a stop beside the wagon; his breath caught in his chest as he hesitantly lifted his hand and ran it along the cart's rough wood. It was grooved and coarse against his fingers, just as he remembered it.

Moving on, he turned his attention onto the horse, Spots as Harry had so aptly named him due to the many black and white dots littering his grey body. He had grown older, drastically so, and it became all too obvious to Harry how long it had been since he'd last seen him.

Gently stroking his muzzle, Harry leaned forward and rested his head against the horse's neck. "It's nice to see you again; I hope Gandalf's been treating you well while you've been away."

Spots shifted slightly, pushing his soft muzzle further into Harry's hand in hopes of receiving some kind of treat. During his travels with Gandalf Harry had developed a habit of always having a piece of apple or carrot at hand to give the horse, a habit Gandalf always reprimanded him for, claiming that Spots would become fat. The old wizard had never managed to rid him of this custom though.

"Don't worry," he whispered before pushing away from the horse, "I'll bring a treat for you later."

He turned towards the house, making his way towards the door, only stopping when his hand rested on the cold door knob. A slight twist was the only thing standing between him and seeing Gandalf.

Drawing a deep breath he tightened his grip on the round knob and slowly turned it, only releasing it when a quiet click reached his ears. With a gentle push the door swung open without a sound and Gandalf's deep, familiar laughter floated through the air. Warmth spread through his chest and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Six steps later and Gandalf was within view.

He hadn't changed much, his hair and beard had grown longer and his clothes seemed to be a bit more worn than they had been the last time Harry had seen him, but Gandalf was very much the same as he had always been. It comforted Harry to see it, and immediately chased away the queasy feeling that had lingered in his stomach for the entire day.

"Ah!" Bilbo suddenly burst out, rising from his seat and beckoning to Harry, "Harry, there you are! I began wondering where you'd gotten to when Frodo returned without you."

Harry stepped forward, "Well, I would've been here sooner, had it not been for the fact that a certain someone," he sent a meaningful glance in Frodo's direction, "abandoned me to take care of everything on my own."

"I stayed for an hour," Frodo shrugged in a half-assed attempt at defending himself, "You seemed to have it all under control."

"Then I expect you'll have everything under control when you take care of cleaning up tomorrow." Harry shot back, before spinning around and facing Gandalf with a large grin on his face.

"Gandalf!" He cried, throwing himself at the wizard in a much needed embrace. Harry burrowed his face in the old man's chest, snuggling closer when those large, wrinkly hands rose to wrap around him. He breathed in deeply, taking in Gandalf's familiar and comforting scent. "It's so good to see you."

"Would you look at you," Gandalf exclaimed, drawing back slightly to take a look at Harry, "how you have grown since I last saw you! 18 years old already, you have turned into quite the young man, I must say."

"He has, hasn't he?" Bilbo added, looking at Harry with a teasing twinkle in his eyes, "I'm sure I'll have to bring out Sting in order to keep the ladies and suitors from him now."

"Shut up," Harry cried, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. He had never been able to handle Bilbo and Frodo very well whenever they decided to tease him about a potential lover. Blushes and stutters were often the result—which in turn was the very reason they teased him in the first place. It was a vicious circle, really.

"Now, Harry," Gandalf joined in, "there is no need to be embarrassed. Love is a natural and beautiful part of life, and any woman or man would be lucky to have you as their partner."

"Yes, Harry," A large, amused grin spread across Frodo's face, "he's right."

"Instead of contemplating my currently non-existent love life, you should get ready for the party." Harry changed the subject, moving towards his room and glaring at the three of them before closing the door behind him.

* * *

With the exception of an incident with the fireworks, the party was a brilliant success, Harry mused, cradling a mug of ale while taking in the many drunken, laughing and dancing hobbits. It hadn't taken them long—after having finished eating, mind you—to clear away some tables for a dance floor. And, much to Harry's amusement, Frodo had been dominating it ever since. His young friend had even managed to drag Sam out onto it—a most impressive feat.

Rising from his seat, Harry went in search of the birthday boy. When he last saw him, Bilbo had been on the run from the Sackville Bagginses, on the verge of being captured. The fear had been clear in his eyes as he had clung to Frodo, using his young nephew as a shield of sorts. A rather useless shield, though, as the young hobbit didn't quite manage to hide his uncle from view.

It seemed he had managed to escape his bothersome relatives, Harry discovered when he rounded the corner of one of the tents. Bilbo was sitting with a bunch of children, vividly telling the story Harry had heard so many times while growing up. The trolls turned into stone this time as well, and as always an almost longing glint appeared in the hobbit's eyes. Harry had always known of Bilbo's secret desire, his wish to experience adventure again. And it never became more obvious than when the old hobbit told the stories of his travels with Gandalf and the company of thirteen dwarves.

Sometimes, Harry thought it a wonder that Bilbo hadn't just up and left. Especially when considering the fact that he and Frodo were old enough to take care of themselves—had, in fact, been so for several years now.

Leaving Bilbo and the children to their own devises, Harry continued walking about and taking in all the jolly hobbits. He had taken it upon himself to be a chaperone of sorts for the evening, limiting his intake of alcohol as he knew neither Frodo nor Bilbo would do so. If truth be told, the two would be more prone to causing trouble than stopping it. And since someone had to take care of the two he had come to think of as family, the task fell on Harry, as always. Harry had lost count of how many times he had had to step in to rescue the two from whatever antics they had come up with in their drunkenness.

"Finally managed to escape Frodo and the dance floor I see, Sam." Harry brightened when he came across the shy hobbit, having always been very fond of his company.

Sam swayed slightly, leaning against the back of a chair. "I wouldn't say I escaped Mr. Harry, I was merely allowed a break. Mr. Frodo will be coming to get me for another round in a matter of minutes, I'm sure."

He sounded surprisingly sober, Harry observed. "Ah, well, it's all in the pursuit of Rosie," and with a smile he added, "believe me, it's worth it."

"It's hopeless, you mean." Sam sighed. "What would Rosie Cotton, an angel amongst angels, want with boring old me?"

"Well," Harry began, grabbing a chair and sitting down, "I'd imagine she'd want to kiss you, marry you and eventually have your children."

The hobbit lit up at the prospect. "You really think so?"

"You'll never know if you don't try," Harry replied, smiling at him while taking a small sip of his ale.

"Yeah," Sam breathed, his eyes brightening as he straightened up and began moving in the direction of the dance floor with a determined air about him. Samwise Gamgee was officially on the hunt for Rosie Cotton.

Sighing, Harry leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs, barely resisting the urge to lift them up to his lap for a much needed foot rub. Sam hadn't been the only one Frodo had managed to drag out onto the dance floor that evening. And as a result, Harry's feet were aching, both due to the strain of dancing and from constantly having been stepped on by an overzealous Frodo. The hobbit had always been a clumsy drunk.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew was Frodo frantically shaking his shoulder.

"He's gone! Harry, he's gone!" The hobbit shouted, with wide blue eyes.

"Who's gone?" Harry questioned, groggily rubbing his eyes.

"Bilbo's gone! He just disappeared!"

"What?!" Harry shouted, immediately shooting up from his seat, "How?!"

"I don't know!" the hobbit cried, distress painted on his face. "One minute he was there, making his speech and the next he was gone. He just vanished."

"Well have you searched for him?"

Frodo nodded, "He's not here."

"Let's go up to the house then, see if he's there." Harry had finally managed to gather his wits, calming down so he could think clearly.

"Come on." He gestured for Frodo to follow him, moving up the hill with hurried steps.

The house was dark and quiet when they reached it, and with the exception of the soft glow—most likely created by the fire in the fireplace dying out—coming from the living room window, Harry could see no sign of life. Slowly, they made their way towards the door, Harry's heart beating a mile per minute.

The door slid open without a sound and Harry waited for Frodo to step inside before following. Green eyes fluttered about the room, desperately searching for any sign that Bilbo was there. He vaguely registered Frodo bowing down to pick up something, but immediately pushed it to the back of his mind. Finding Bilbo was first priority.

"Frodo, Harry," Gandalf's deep voice suddenly came from the living room, "Come join me here by the fire. We need to talk."

Exchanging a look with Frodo, the two moved to take a seat by the fire.

When they had gotten comfortable Gandalf began talking, pacing in front of them. "As I'm sure you've both realized Bilbo isn't here. He has gone to Rivendell to live out the rest of his days with the elves there. He left Bag End to you Frodo, along with all of his possessions to be distributed equally between the two of you."

Gandalf held out an envelope, smiling gently at Frodo before gesturing towards it. "The ring in your hand was left to you as well, though it is best to keep it safe and hidden. Wouldn't want anything to happen to it, now would we?"

Without seeming to put much thought to it Frodo immediately dropped the ring into the envelope, jumping when Gandalf hurriedly closed it and moved to seal it with wax. It was far too obvious that the wizard was anxious, unsettled by something that neither Harry nor Frodo was aware of. In fact, he seemed to become more and more restless with each second that passed by.

As if having reached a vital decision, Gandalf gathered his things, moving towards the exit with quick steps.

"Where are you going?" Harry questioned, alarmed.

"I have questions, questions that need answers and I am afraid I cannot get them here."

"But you just arrived today!"

Gandalf's eyes softened as he turned away from the now open door to take in the young boy he had become so fond of. "I am sorry that I couldn't spend more time with you, Harry, but it is very important that I find the answers I need. I promise that as soon as I have them I'll return."

Without waiting for a reply the wizard stormed out.

As it always did whenever Gandalf left him, a twinge of loneliness shot through his chest. And he smiled weakly. "Stay safe then..."

* * *

A month had passed since Gandalf's abrupt departure and life had—as it always did—returned to normal. Harry and Frodo had adjusted to living life without Bilbo, growing used to being two and not having to deal with the old hobbit's antics. The days passed by quickly, every able body being put to good use on working the fields and Harry was no exception. Most days he'd return home so exhausted that all he could do was collapse in a heap on his bed, not even changing out of his work clothes. At times though—whenever Frodo, Merry and Pippin's gifts of persuasion was at its best—he'd end up at Rosie's bar and, in turn, end up feeling even worse the next morning.

Tonight was not one such night. Despite the hobbits' continued insistence Harry had refused to join them, opting to return to the house for some shut eye instead. Besides, he had told them, someone had to stay sober in case they decided to do something stupid—which was a most likely scenario if past experience was any indicator.

With a sigh Harry threw one last piece of wood into the fire, gently stoking it before leaving to retire to his room. Or, that is to say, he would have had it not been for the sound of the hooves of a horse coming to a step outside. Moving towards the window, Harry nearly plastered his face against the glass to catch sight of whatever was out there. It was too dark to see anything clearly, though he could make out the silhouette of a horse and a very tall figure.

Holding his breath, Harry watched as the figure abandoned his horse and walked towards their front door. A loud knock echoed through the house, making Harry jump despite the fact that he had been expecting it.

Grabbing a hold of the only weapon he could find—the wrought iron poker situated by the fireplace—Harry cautiously moved towards the door. Licking his lips he called out. "Who is it?!"

"It's me," a deep voice replied, and when it seemed that a more detailed answer had to be given he added, "Gandalf."

"Where is Frodo?!" The wizard asked the moment Harry opened the door to let him in.

"He's down at the Green Dragon...though he's most likely heading home now," Harry hesitantly answered, "Why?"

Gandalf seemed to deflate then, as if all the air had been forced out of him and he was finally feeling all the limitations old age brought with it. He sank into a chair and stared darkly into the fire.

"It won't be too long then," Gandalf murmured to himself, "good."

"Gandalf," Harry hesitantly began, "What exactly is going on? What has you so out of bounds?"

"I think it is best if we were to wait for Frodo. This involves him to a great degree."

"Ah, would you like something to drink then? Tea? Or maybe you'd like something stronger?"

"Oh no, I'm fine thank you, though I hope you won't mind my smoking." The wizard replied, taking out his pipe before stuffing it with pipe-weed.

Just as Gandalf had said, they didn't have to wait too long for Frodo's arrival. Only 15 minutes, or so, could have passed by before the hobbit came stumbling in through the door, a silly smile stretched across his face. Clearly, he'd had an enjoyable evening.

Harry immediately moved to intercept him when it seemed that Frodo would ignore the living room and walk straight to his room.

"Gandalf's here," He said, grabbing a hold of the hobbit's arm and gently steering him into the living room.

At that, Frodo sobered. "Gandalf? He's returned?"

"Indeed I have," Gandalf answered when the two joined him. "And we have much to discuss, Frodo. You're ring, is it safe? Have you kept it hidden?"

"Yes, I haven't touched it since you left." Frodo responded.

"Good, you've done very well," Gandalf smiled reassuringly, "Now could you get it for me? There is something I need to see with my own eyes before I reveal anything to you."

Without any further prompting the hobbit retreated to retrieve the ring, leaving Harry and Gandalf by themselves once again. A tense silence spread between them, something Harry had never before experienced in Gandalf's company. While they hadn't always kept a conversation going, the silence between them had always been a companionable one—one of the small comforts Harry had learned to associate with Gandalf. It was odd, to say the least, that they had become so distanced from each other.

"Here it is!" Frodo called when he returned to the room, a white envelope clutched in his hand.

Gandalf took the enveloped from Frodo and with a grave look threw it into the fire. He ignored Frodo questioning what he was doing, focusing instead on the way the flames immediately latched onto the paper, eagerly devouring it until the only thing left behind was a small ring made out of gold. Gandalf grabbed a hold of a fire-tong and gently picked the ring up.

"Hold your hand out, Frodo." And when it seemed that Frodo was hesitating, the old wizard added, "Don't worry, it's quite cool."

Slowly, Frodo held out his hand, flinching and expecting a burn when Gandalf abruptly dropped the ring. It rested harmlessly in his palm.

"Tell me, what do you see? Can you see anything odd about it?" Gandalf questioned anxiously.

Curious, Harry stepped closer to get a proper look. He hadn't paid much attention to the ring when Gandalf had last been there, only thinking it to be an old family heirloom and that he had no business prying into it. But the fact that Gandalf should think it so important seemed very odd to him, and against his will he grew inquisitive.

"No..." Frodo said after a moment, "I can't see anything."

Gandalf's shoulders sagged in relief, Harry observed, in fact his entire frame seemed to have been drained of all its tension. It lasted only for a couple of seconds though, for the wizard tensed up again the minute Frodo uttered one word.

"Wait!" The hobbit's voice sounded odd, weighed down by astonishment and something else that Harry had difficulty identifying. "There is something, writing, it looks like some form of elvish."

Moving closer, Harry leaned in to look over Frodo's shoulder. And true enough; a red inscription was glowing on the ring's smooth surface. Though Harry couldn't understand a single word, the intricate swirls drew his attention—it was beautiful to look at.

"It is the language of Mordor, which I will not utter here. Roughly translated it says: '_One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.'_" He took a deep breath before turning to Harry. "I think I shall have to take you up on your offer of tea after all, Harry."

Harry nodded. "I'll put the kettle on then."

By the time Harry had prepared the tea and some scones to go with it, Frodo and Gandalf had both taken a seat by the only table in the living room. Gandalf was smoking on his pipe, his body shifting restlessly, while Frodo was staring at the ring situated at the very centre of the table, not quite able to understand the significance of it.

Harry poured the tea in three cups each, handing two to his companions and claiming one for himself. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Gandalf sent him a small smile and took a sip of his tea before turning to the more serious matter at hand.

"That ring," the wizard pointed to the table, "is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the depths of Mount Doom. And I am afraid that its presence here has put the both of you in grave danger. Evil is stirring in Mordor and the Ring has awoken—it has heard its masters call."

"But Sauron was destroyed!" Frodo protested.

"Sauron's body might have been destroyed," the wizard explained, "but his spirit endured and now he is looking for the Ring. Which means that you can no longer stay in the Shire, we need to bring the Ring to safety, somewhere the enemy cannot easily reach it."

"Rivendell," Harry murmured, quietly putting down his cup while turning a serious gaze on Gandalf, green eyes shining with worry.

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed, "Rivendell."

A sudden rustle of leaves drew their attention. The rustle had been far too distinctive to have been made by the wind, or an animal for that matter, and the three of them tensed and prepared themselves to face this unknown opponent.

"Get down, both of you!" Gandalf whispered in a harsh voice as he moved towards the open window.

Without thinking, Harry threw himself down on the floor, wincing and letting out a quiet hiss when his knees knocked severely against the hard stone. Several tense seconds passed by before a scuffle broke out. A loud slam signalled the end to it and Harry cautiously looked up, pushing himself up to his feet. There, pinned to the table, was a terrified Sam, shaking like a leaf.

"Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee!" Gandalf shouted, "Have you been eavesdropping?"

The hobbit talked so fast and incoherently that Harry had trouble understanding him, though Gandalf seemed to have caught it. An amused smile immediately spread across the wizard's face.

"It's a little late for trimming the verge, isn't it?"

Sam flushed, stammering before he managed to draw himself together. "I heard raised voices."

"And how much did you hear?" Gandalf's voice dropped dangerously low, his gaze drilling into the poor hobbit.

"Nothing much..." Sam hesitantly answered; panic once again rising within him, "I heard something about a ring, a dark lord and the end of the world...but please, Mr. Gandalf sir! I meant no harm! Don't turn me into anything... unnatural!"

"No..." The wizard finally said, after a couple of minutes filled with silence, "I have another use for you, Samwise."

A whimper echoed through the room.

**To be continued**


	3. The Hunted

**Title:** Strange Connections

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Beta: **Beautifully Shattered

**Warning:** Nothing to be scared of this time either!

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._**  
**

**A/N:  
**We've reached chapter 2 guys and I must say I am beyond ecstatic at the response this story has gotten from all of you! I am so happy that you like it and it truly is a joy to once again write a HP/LOTR crossover for you again! There's a bit more going on in this chapter and hopefully it will satisfy you all.

Once again I urge you to leave a comment on what you think, it will only help improve both my writing and this story! :)

Love,

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"Not all those who wander are lost."― __J.R.R Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring _

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Hunted  
**

They had been travelling for several days now, steering clear of the roads in favour of wandering through the wild terrain of the untamed forests. So far their journey had gone off without any troubles. The weather had been kind to them, not a drop of rain had fallen from the sky since they had set off from Bag End. And with the exception of a company of elves travelling towards the Grey Havens and the occasional animal, they had not encountered a single soul.

"We should get going," Frodo said when they'd finished with breakfast, rising from his position on the ground to rinse off his plate in the small creek they had camped by. "I want to cover more ground today than we did yesterday."

"Alright," Harry replied, following the hobbit's example. "Should I take the heavier load, today?"

They had, in total, three rucksacks. One loaded with food and various pans, and the other two contained their clothes. And they had all agreed that it would be most fair if they took turns in carrying the heaviest one.

"No, no," Sam cut exclaimed, "You carried it the day before yesterday, it's my turn now."

"Are you sure? I don't mind carrying it."

"I'm sure," The hobbit smiled and continued as he good-naturedly patted his slightly rounded belly, "besides, I could do with some of the extra exercise."

Chuckling, Harry moved to break camp. It didn't take them long to gather their belongings, they had gotten used to it by now and had found a very efficient way of doing it. And, when Harry had thrown some water onto the fire and was certain there were no embers left, they moved on.

Once again, the weather was kind to them, the sun was shining and not a single cloud could be seen on the blue sky. It was a pleasant day, and Harry found that his spirits were still high, even after they had spent most of the day walking and his feet were beginning to ache from the constant movement.

They had entered Farmer Maggot's crops and had taken to walking in silence in fear of being discovered as they navigated through the labyrinth of plants. Harry had heard rumours of what happened to hobbits that entered the farmer's crops and none of them were particularly tempting to experience. Loss of limbs and castrations were only some of the horror stories he knew of. And though the likeliness of them being true was slim, he still didn't wish to take any chances, he was rather fond of all his limbs, thank you very much.

Submersed in these thoughts and his own mind, Harry was violently dragged into the real world again when he was tackled to the ground by a small, but sturdy body. A gasp escaped him when the air was knocked out of him and a small rock dug into the tender skin of his lower back. It would bruise, he was sure.

"Merry," he angrily hissed when he opened his eyes and caught eye of the hobbit lying on top of him. "Get off!"

"Sorry, Harry," Merry sheepishly replied as he struggled to get up.

Grimacing as a sharp pain shot through him, Harry carefully pushed himself up from the ground, refusing the helping hand Merry had reached out to give him. All of a sudden, his high spirits had been ruined. Thrown to the ground and stomped on.

"What on earth have you been up to?" Frodo exclaimed, when they caught sight of the many vegetables possessively clutched in the two, mischievous hobbits' arms. "Don't tell me you've been stealing from Farmer Maggot's crops again!"

"Well he's got so much," Pippin began, bending down to pick up the carrots he had dropped when crashing into them, "He can spare a couple of vegetables."

"A couple of vegetables?" Sam sputtered, "It looks as if you could feed an entire army with what you've got there!"

"We've got a healthy appetite," Merry added, a satisfied smile on his face.

"A healthy appetite, my arse," Harry muttered to himself. "More like greed."

The barking of dogs, a sudden shout and the flash of a sharp scythe sent them running, scrambling to get their feet to obey fast enough. His heart sped up, beating a tattoo in his chest as the shouts and barks came closer and closer. They would get caught! He could practically feel the dogs' sharp teeth nipping at his ankles, ready to rip into flesh and muscle. He could nearly see the tall figure of Farmer Maggot coming around the corner.

Having been so focused on what was behind them; Harry never noticed when the group before him came to a sudden stop. Green eyes widened when he forcefully crashed into Sam, sending them all tumbling down a steep hill. Grunts and curses sounded through the air when their descent finally came to a halt, resulting in a heap of entangled limbs.

Harry groaned, quickly jumping up from where he was lying on the very top of the pile, wincing at the pained moans his movements caused from the others. Stumbling, he quickly searched himself for any injuries, turning to look at the hill they had tumbled down when his search came up empty.

They had been quite lucky, he mused to himself, for the hill was littered with large stones and sharp branches. The fact that none of them had been impaled by a wayward branch or crushed against a bolder was a miracle. Dusting himself off, Harry turned back to the group, observing with amusement that they had already gotten to their feet and gathered around a cluster of mushrooms. Eagerly, Merry, Pippin and Sam collected the mushrooms, large and satisfied smiles covering their faces. Their near encounter with Farmer Maggot was all but forgotten.

A gust of wind blew a couple strands of hair into his face, drawing Harry's attention away from the three hobbits and to their surroundings. Fallen leaves in a variety of colours blew along the road, dancing through the air as the wind grew in strength. A sudden sense of foreboding snuck up on him, only growing when he heard Frodo's anxious cry.

"Get off the road! We must get off the road!"

The calm that had settled amongst them fled, chased away by a sudden ominous presence. Quickly, Harry ushered the hobbits to the other side of the road where they found a small hiding place, underneath the thick roots of a large maple tree, just big enough for four hobbits. Four hobbits only.

"Harry!" Frodo hissed, "Get down here!"

"There's not enough room!" Harry whispered back, his heart beating harder and harder. Frantically, he looked around, green eyes desperately searching for a hiding place.

A loud shriek suddenly echoed through the air, closely followed by the sound of heavy hooves hitting the ground. Looking down at the hobbits, his resolve hardened. If he couldn't find a proper hiding place, he would at least have to climb up a tree to get out of immediate view. With a quick glance Harry found a tree big enough to carry his weight. Sending his companions one last look, Harry headed over to the tree and swiftly climbed up, only stopping when he was as far up as he could go without losing sight of the road. Clutching onto a branch, Harry settled down to wait.

Within seconds their unknown enemy rounded the corner, his dark cloak billowing around him as he slowed his horse. Thinking quickly, Harry reached up with a hand and covered his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own breathing. With a heavy thump, the dark rider descended from the equally dark horse. Though his face was obscured by a large hood, Harry could still see the way he observed his surroundings, looking for something.

A barely audible whisper sounded through the air then, "Where are you?"

It was a thin, raspy voice that sounded as if it hadn't been used in years. It sent shivers and a horrible feeling of coldness through Harry's body. He could immediately tell that there was something very unnatural about this creature, something that didn't belong.

Slowly, the rider moved towards the hobbits' hiding place, his footsteps sure and calculated as if he knew exactly where they were hidden. And all of a sudden Harry realized that he would—indeed—know exactly where they were if he didn't do something to distract him. He was, in fact, so close that he could have reached out and grabbed a hold of the nearest hobbit.

Biting his lower lip, Harry grabbed a hold of his rucksack, opening it as silently as he could and fished out a thick wool blanket. Drawing a deep breath, he lay, belly down; on the branch he was situated on and carefully crawled out to the very tip. Clutching onto the branch with his thighs, he sat up and threw the blanket as hard as he could.

With baited breath he watched it sail through the air, urging it on to fly as far away from them as possible. They needed all the time they could get to escape from the rider. The blanket landed with a loud thump, bushes and leaves rustling loudly. It immediately grabbed the dark rider's attention and he threw himself on his horse and took off at a terrible speed.

Wasting no time, Harry climbed down from his tree, hurrying after the hobbits that had already begun running. What with his longer legs, it did not take him long to close the distance between them. And he could only pray to the Valar that the dark rider did not find it as easy to catch up with them.

* * *

Harry shivered; curling into the chair he was occupying and tightening his blanket even further around his frame. Night had descended upon the village of Bree and brought a chill with it. The hobbits lay asleep in each their bed, snoring loudly and seemingly unaffected by the day's events.

They had come close, too close, to being caught. The dark rider had been joined by eight identical riders and the group had relentlessly hunted them throughout the day and evening, nearly succeeding in catching them by the ferry crossing of the Brandywine River. Harry could still hear the cruel words the nine had shouted at them when they had managed to escape, and the mere memory of those cold, lifeless voices was enough to send shivers down his back.

Oddly enough, the hobbits did not seem to have heard the same things as Harry had. They had looked rather strangely at Harry—as if worried for his sanity—when he had mentioned one particular thing the riders had sworn to do to them when they were caught.

A large shadow shifted by the window, catching Harry's attention. Their arrival in Bree had brought with it an unexpected companion. They had, upon entering the Prancing Pony, expected to see Gandalf waiting for them, but had immediately been informed that the wizard named Gandalf had not been seen there for over 6 months. Several unfortunate events later, including one where the Ring was nearly discovered, and they were joined by Strider. Strider who, apparently, knew Gandalf well enough to have been informed of their group and where they were headed.

Gazing at the ragged looking man with narrowed green eyes, Harry asked, in a quiet voice, "How do you know Gandalf?"

The man seemed to start, as if he had been dragged out of some sort of trance. Grey eyes sized him up for a moment before the man answered. "I first met Gandalf 62 years ago, when I was 25 years old and I have had many adventures with him since."

Strider did not seem inclined to delve any deeper into the subject, he once again turned to gaze out of the window, pointedly keeping his back to Harry. Taking the hint, Harry burrowed further into his chair and closed his eyes, focusing in on the sounds coming from outside. The sound of rain immediately greeted him, the soft drops hitting the roof and the ground, pouring down the house walls and forming small rivers in the street. Occasionally, the snort of a horse resting in the stables or the twitter of birds nestled in a nearby tree reached him. Other than that, the world was entirely still, almost as if it had been abandoned by all living beings.

The fire burning in the fireplace crackled and danced, casting large shadows about the room. Opening his eyes, Harry once again returned to observing their mysterious, new companion. Rough and ragged were only a few of the words Harry could have used to describe the man. There was something about him, something indescribable that seemed to demand Harry's attention and refused to relinquish it. And at times Harry could have sworn he'd even seen a regal glint flash in those penetrating, grey eyes.

Strider was a mystery that Harry was not meant to figure out, it seemed.

A particularly loud snore from Sam drew him out of these musings and onto an entirely different subject. And once again he turned to the only other person still awake. "Do you think they'll buy it? The ringwraiths, I mean."

"I don't know," Strider replied, drawing out the words as if he was uncomfortable with saying them, "maybe, if we're lucky. One can never know in these matters."

"No, I suppose one can't." Harry murmured uncertainly, a bit unnerved by the answer he had received. If the outcome of their plan was all up to luck, what on earth were they still doing there? Wouldn't they be better off leaving the village now and get a head start on their hunters?

Harry was just about to voice these thoughts, when a loud, enraged shout penetrated the air. Curses and insults were carelessly thrown around as the leader berated his men for having let them escape.

"What are you waiting for?!" That cold, lifeless voice screamed, "Get going! Find them!"

A few seconds later a large group of horses stormed past their room, their hooves hitting the ground so harshly that the sound could be compared to that of a violent thunder storm. Slowly, but surely, the sound faded off into the night.

"And that is our cue." Strider commented, rising from his seat and gesturing for the hobbits—who had woken from the ruckus—to get out of bed and ready themselves to leave. And, with what could be mistaken as a smile, he said to Harry, "It seems luck was on our side, after all."

Harry smiled too himself. Maybe the ranger wasn't so bad.

Within minutes they had packed and were ready to leave, tightening their all too thin cloaks around themselves in preparation for the weather they would have to face head on. Sure enough, the second they were out of the door they were drenched in ice cold rainwater and it didn't take long before their teeth were clattering from the cold. It would be a cold and tiresome night, Harry thought to himself.

They wandered for hours upon hours and—despite the many complaints from Merry and Pippin—were given no reprieve from their newly appointed leader. The ringwraiths, Strider had pointed out, were on horseback and could cover ground more efficiently than they could. Therefore it was necessary that they pushed themselves as far as they could in order to gain as much distance between them as possible.

Finally, after having walked an entire night and day, with only quick stops to rest, they made camp at Amon Sûl. Though hesitant, Strider had realized that the hobbits would not last much longer at the pace they were going and so had reluctantly given in when Harry had suggested they should settle down for the night. Said man had now gone to scout the area, still not convinced that they had put enough distance between themselves and their enemy. Harry, realizing that the man couldn't possibly cover so much ground alone, opted to join him, leaving the hobbits behind to rest. And so, with only a sword for protection he went off in the opposite direction of the ranger.

He had been investigating their surroundings for about half an hour when he heard it.

A far too familiar voice shouted triumphantly, "There! There they are!"

Harry froze, his breath was knocked out of him and for a second it seemed as if the entire world had gone into a stand-still. Slowly, panic began spreading through his body, viciously grabbing a hold of him. It was the terrified screams of the hobbits that finally tore him out of his daze, forcing him into action as he took off sprinting, pushing his feet to go faster and faster.

Quickly, he weaved his way between trees, rocks and bushes, dodging every obstacle laid in his way. His breath came in frantic pants, his lungs were screaming at him and he could practically taste the blood at the back of his throat. What seemed like minutes, but could only have been seconds passed by, and soon enough he escaped the forest, climbed up a rocky path and finally entered the watchtower of Amon Sûl.

His worst nightmare had come true. There, standing clustered together right in the middle of the ruins were the hobbits with what seemed to be a wounded Frodo lying on the ground. They were all surrounded by the large and menacing figures of the ringwraiths. The nine cloaked beings had drawn their swords and were steadily approaching their prey, their malice showing in each step.

"Kill them," the leader spoke, with obvious enjoyment, "kill them all and bring me the Master's ring."

Those words kick-started his system again and Harry immediately shot forward, drew his sword and threw himself between the hobbits and the ringwraiths.

"No!" He shouted, "Don't you dare touch them!"

The cloaked figures seemed to rear back for a moment, as if startled and confused. Several minutes passed by at a standstill with the ringwraiths observing Harry as if he was some rare gem and said gem trembling as he struggled to stand his ground. Anymore of this and the tension would destroy him. Hesitantly, one of the beings took a step forward, stopping when it noticed how Harry seemed to tense.

"You speak?" That same cold, lifeless voice, sounded through the air with a slightly less intimidating edge to it.

"Of course I speak," Harry responded distractedly, backing up slightly in an attempt at shielding all the hobbits with his own body. Green eyes frantically flicked back and forth in a desperate search for an escape.

"You speak," It repeated, this time with more certainty and feeling. It almost seemed pleased as it took another step forward, reaching out to Harry with an armoured hand.

Harry stood there, frozen in fear and completely unable to move as that large, steel covered hand moved closer and closer. And it was until the hand was inches away from touching him that a loud roar and the flash of fire shattered Harry's trance. With an impressive bravado, Strider had arrived at the scene, swinging his sword and a lit torch around in a practiced manner. It was clear as day to him that Strider was a man used to fighting. With gusto, the man furiously began fending off the wraiths as if unbothered by the sheer disadvantage he had when it came to numbers. One man against nine, Harry did not like the odds of that.

"Harry!" Strider shouted, with sweat running down the side of his face as he parried a large sword headed right for his shoulder. "Get Frodo out of here, now! Bring him to safety!"

"What about you then?!" He shouted back as he began sprinting towards Frodo, already wondering how he was supposed to get the hobbit out of there.

All of a sudden, the ranger threw his torch straight past Harry's head and at something behind him. A voice filled with excruciating pain suddenly pierced the air in a horrific scream as the torch became lodged in the empty space where the creature's head was supposed to be.

Soon enough, with the joint effort of sword and fire, Strider managed to drive off their enemy—though for how long was uncertain. Hastily, the hobbits gathered all their belongings, while Harry and Strider moved to carry Frodo. Moving as quickly as they could while carrying their fragile cargo, the group fled the ruins of Amon Sûl and disappeared into the forest surrounding it, seeking shelter beneath the trees.

* * *

He was exhausted, completely and utterly drained of all strength. His limbs were heavy as stone, dragging along the ground as he walked, barely obeying his orders. Every muscle in his body—even those he had never known of before—ached and protested at his every movement. It had been a long and hard journey to Rivendell; they had travelled through both day and night. So it was only natural that they should be fatigued. In their immense concern for Frodo's well-being they had all refused to stop before reaching Rivendell, not knowing whether Frodo had survived or not, it was unbearable.

In half the amount of time it normally would have taken them, they had travelled to Rivendell, to the elves. Harry had never seen an elf before, that is, he had never seen a proper elf before. Dobby, the house elf he had had the pleasure of meeting in his second year at Hogwarts, could be categorized as an elf, as short and strange as he was. These elves were the total opposite; tall, slender, beautiful and graceful no matter what they did. It was unnerving and intimidating, and Harry found that he much preferred Dobby—despite his misguided attempts at protecting Harry—over these new elves.

Burrowing his face into the softness of his fluffy pillow, Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to relax. It had been a long couple of days and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He shifted, twisting to lie on his back. That is to say, he wanted nothing more than to sleep when he knew that Frodo was out of danger. As soon as they had arrived in Rivendell they had been taken to separate rooms and told to wait, apparently Elrond was in the middle of healing their friend and was not to be disturbed. And Harry was all for that, let the elf keep all his attention on Frodo, but would it kill one of the other elves just to check up on him and let them know if he was out of danger?

It seemed so.

Another hour of simply laying there, unable to sleep and more anxious than he had ever been before, passed by when all of a sudden the door opened. Green eyes widened and Harry immediately jumped out of bed when Gandalf came striding in.

"Gandalf!" He cried, a large smile spreading across his face. "You're here!"

"Harry," The tall wizard opened his arms in an invitation, enveloping Harry when he threw himself into Gandalf's embrace. "My dear Harry."

Drawing back, Harry took in the wizard. He looked decidedly more tired and old than he had when they had last met. There were dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes and the usual twinkle in his eyes did not shine with nearly as much gusto as it normally did.

"You look like hell," he commented.

"I must admit I feel like it as well," Gandalf replied, moving towards the only chair in the room and taking a seat.

"What happened to you? Why didn't you come to meet us at the Prancing Pony?"

"A rather large setback, I'm afraid." The wizard stroked his beard, his grey eyes narrowed in worry. "I was meeting with the master of my order, Saruman the White, to seek his advice, but it seems he has been swayed by the dark promises of Sauron. He is no longer what he once was."

"I'm sorry." Harry didn't know what else to say. From the stories Gandalf had told him about the Istari, his brothers, they had all been close and Harry could only imagine how much such a betrayal would hurt.

"No use crying over spilt milk," Gandalf answered with a sad smile. "I did not come here to talk about Saruman's betrayal; rather, I have some good news for you, Harry. Lord Elrond has just finished healing Frodo and while he'll never be completely rid of the wound, but he survived and will make a swift recovery."

"Really?" Harry lit up, "Can I see him?"

"Of course you can; in fact, your companions have already gone to join him."

"Good," Harry murmured, content with the knowledge that Frodo had somebody with him, before allowing himself to fall back onto the bed, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

A hearty chuckle rumbled through Gandalf's chest as he watched the young man sleeping on the bed. It had been a long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing Harry sleep so peacefully. It seemed that whenever Gandalf visited him at Bilbo's, the prospect of Gandalf's inevitable departure always loomed over him and ruined his sleep. He had spent many a night sitting in Harry's room and watching him toss and turn restlessly in sleep.

Rising from his seat, Gandalf moved towards the bed and gently drew the blanket from beneath his charge before tucking him in. Just as he was about to stand up and leave, the young man turned and a couple of strands of hair fell down into his eyes. With a gentle smile, Gandalf reached down and swiped the hair away from his face, carefully running his hand through the thickness of Harry's hair.

"How you have grown, indeed," Gandalf murmured, "perhaps it is time you were properly trained..."

With this thought lingering in his mind, he retreated from the room, intent on checking up on Frodo and having a talk with Lord Elrond.

"He's a remarkable young man, that Harry of yours." Strider, or rather Aragorn as Gandalf knew him, joined him the minute he closed the door.

"He is, isn't he?" The pride was clear in his voice.

"He's the owner of a rather curious ability as well. Did you know that he speaks another language?"

"Another language? No."

"Yes," The ranger continued, "It rather surprised me to discover that he can both speak and understand the language of the Nazgûl."

"What?!" Gandalf exclaimed, alarmed.

"Indeed, and they seemed very hesitant in attacking him." The man allowed his words to settle in before continuing. "Is there something you have not told me about your charge, Gandalf?"

"They were hesitant in attacking him, you say? Did they seem very interested in him?"

The ranger nodded, "I would say so yes, for a moment they even seemed to be more focused on him than claiming the Ring from Frodo."

"Oh dear..." Gandalf sped up, leaving his companion behind and ignoring his questioning shout.

* * *

**To be continued**


	4. Speaker of a Dead Language

**Title:** Strange Connections

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta:** Beautifully Shattered

**Warning:** It's safe this time as well!

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:  
**I know, I know, it's been way too long, but I've been very busy this last month. I've got two final exams coming up, I've had five birthdays to keep up with and I've gotten a new job so I haven't really had much time to write anything, really. I'm afraid this chapter isn't as long as the others, but hopefully it will keep you satisfied until I've finished with the next one. ;)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and, as always, I'd love to hear your opinion! :D

* * *

**Chapter 3: Speaker of a Dead Language**

"Close your eyes and relax, shut everything out and focus only on the energy coursing within you. Let it envelope your entire being. Feel it, breathe it, and be at one with it." Gandalf said, voice calm and quiet as his grey eyes took in every movement made by his charge. A small, content smile crinkled the corners of his mouth as he watched Harry obey his orders flawlessly. The boy was a natural.

Leaning back against a large tree, the young wizard was completely oblivious to the world around him, his whole being focused on rediscovering the magic that had, years ago, been so familiar to him. This was the first of many sessions he was to have with Gandalf, sessions that were meant to nurture and strengthen his magic until it was on the same level as it had originally been. Harry was ecstatic, the memories of his time spent at Hogwarts, using his magic to its full potential, had haunted him for a long time. And he could barely wait to tear down the wall he had built around his magical core now that he had finally been given the permission to use it again.

"Now," Gandalf said when a few moments had passed, "cast a spell."

"I can't," Harry murmured, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Why not?"

"I don't have my wand; I can't do magic without a wand."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Well," the young man began, "I have had accidents. Moments where I performed magic without a wand, but I've never done it purposely, it's always been due to an emotional outburst."

"Perhaps it is time you tried then," Gandalf smiled, "I shall guide you through it, if you like."

Harry hesitated, wondering if what Gandalf was suggesting was even possible. During the two short years he had been a part of the Wizarding world he had never met a witch or wizard who had possessed the ability to cast any sort of magic without the aid of their wand. It was simply unheard of. And while Harry had seen Gandalf casting some minor spells without his staff, he had always thought that to be because the old man's magic was different to his.

"Do you really think it's possible?" His entire being tingled with the prospect, his magic surging.

"Oh yes, if I can do it why shouldn't you?" The wizard cleared his throat, "Now, let's get on with it, shall we?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry once again turned his focus to his magical core, following every command leaving Gandalf's mouth without so much as a thought.

"Clear your mind and delve deep within yourself, seek out your magic and, once again, let it embrace you and spread throughout your entire body. When you have gotten used to the feel of it, when you are familiar with its flow and have it under control, you may draw it all into your fingers. Now, do the exact same movements, say the exact same thing as you would with a wand and cast a spell."

"Orchideous," Harry whispered, holding his breath as he felt his magic surging and shooting out of his fingers. For a moment everything was still. Slowly, he opened his eyes, almost afraid to see if it had worked.

There, right in front of him laid a bunch of pure white lilies.

"I did it..." Breathlessly, he turned to look at Gandalf, a large smile spreading across his face, "I did it! I cast a spell!"

A large lump suddenly caught in his throat, his smile was wiped off as quickly as it had arrived and an insistent burning filled his eyes. His vision began blurring and a tear rolled down his cheek just as a half-choked sob forced its way out of his mouth.

"Harry," Gandalf began cautiously, "Is something wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

"My magic is back," Harry managed through his tears, "after all these years I finally have my magic back. It has been so long."

It had finally hit him. Magic had, ultimately, been what had saved him. Magic was the thing that had given him a meaning in life, other than cooking and cleaning for the Dursleys. It had bestowed him with friends and what could almost be called a family. It had been Harry's only means of freedom and to have gone without it for so many years had been unbearable. Oh, he had managed and he had lived well with Bilbo and Frodo, but something had always been lacking, a hole in his being that he had been unable to fill. Until now, that is.

"C-could you give me a moment?" Green eyes stared at Gandalf, pleading with him.

"Of course," the wizard rose to his feet, "If you need me, I'll be in Lord Elrond's study."

"Thank you," Harry smiled through his tears, watching as Gandalf silently excused himself.

He remained there for hours, continuing to practice his magic when he had finally managed to stop the seemingly never-ending stream of tears. Harry had become addicted; the feeling of once again doing magic was so heavenly that he simply couldn't resist it. It was like a drug.

Then, all of a sudden, a strange urge welled up inside him as he remembered one particular spell. He had never performed it, and had, in fact, only bad memories connected to it. It had fascinated him though, and he could rather use some company, someone other than Gandalf and the hobbits to talk to. He just wanted to try it, see if it would work. It couldn't hurt, after all, and as no one was around to see it none would be freaked out by it either. Besides, he could just reverse it should he wish to.

Having come to a decision, Harry drew forth his magic and whispered, "Serpensortia."

A wave of excitement rushed through him as his magic got to work and summoned a large King Cobra. Its darkly scaled body rose into the air as the snake threateningly flared its hood, swinging back and forth while it assessed this unexpected new threat.

"**Calm**," Harry said, barely registering as his tongue slipped into an entirely different language, being absolutely sure to make no sudden movements, "**Stay calm**."

"**Who are you, speaker?**" the snake hissed back, flashing its fangs for a quick moment as if to make sure that Harry knew what he could do. "**Why have you brought me here?**"

Harry smiled, "**I'm Harry, and I brought you here because I would like some company.**"

The snake seemed to hesitate for a moment before it replied. "**Do you have mice?**"

"**No, but I could get some, if you'd like." **

"**Very well, get me some tasty mice and I will stay to keep you company.**"

Just as Harry began gathering his magic in order to summon some mice, a branch snapped, the sound echoing throughout the garden. Something sharp and cold came to rest against his throat, just below his jugular, as an arm wrapped around him from behind to restrain him.

"What devilry is this?" A voice, deep and enraged, hissed at him. "You dare speak such evil language in the sacred gardens of Imladris?"

"Let me go, you brute!" Harry shouted, resisting the urge to elbow this stranger in his stomach, knowing it would only leave him with a slit throat.

"Oh no, I shall take you to Lord Elrond and let him deal with you." The man dragged him up from his sitting position, violently forcing him to walk in the direction of Lord Elrond's study. "How did you come to be here? What poor guard did you murder?"

"I haven't murdered anyone!" Green eyes narrowed in rage, "I came here with Strider and the hobbits. I am a friend of Gandalf!"

"No friend of Gandalf would speak the language of the Ringwraiths."

Whatever protests he made were immediately dismissed by the stranger, and soon enough Harry realized that nothing he said would change his captor's mind. So Harry clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out whenever the man gave a particular hard push. He had never been so glad to see the wooden door of Elrond's study.

A swift, loud knock and then Elrond's voice sounded through the door. "Come in."

"Gandalf!" Harry called as soon as they entered the room, relief washing over him at the sight of the wizard.

"Harry!" The old man took an alarmed step forward before turning his narrowed eyes to gaze at his captor, "Legolas! Release him, at once!"

"Release him?" The man, now known as Legolas questioned, "He spoke the language of the Ringwraiths, Gandalf, evil lies within him."

"Harry?" Gandalf turned to Harry for confirmation.

"I wasn't speaking the language of the Ringwraiths, how could I when I've never even heard it before?"

"Then what were you speaking, my boy?"

"Parseltongue, snake language," He said before hurrying to add, "I never thought anyone would hear, or I wouldn't have done it, I swear, but it's been so long since I've spoken it and I was curious to see if I could still speak it."

"I see... that is a very useful ability you have there, Harry. I wish you would have told me of it before." Gandalf replied musingly.

"It's not exactly looked upon as something good where I come from." And with a pointed look at the arm restraining him he added, "Obviously, it's not viewed kindly upon here either."

"Legolas," Elrond finally cut in, "Let him go, he is a guest in my home."

Legolas hesitated for a moment; his stiff body screaming reluctance as he slowly relinquished his grip on Harry, taking a startled step backwards as the young man immediately spun around to face him. Harry's green eyes flashed with barely contained rage as he glared at the man—no, elf—that had treated him so callously.

"Well?" He asked after a while, "Don't you think you owe me an apology?"

"An apology?!" The elf repeated, as if to check if he had heard wrong, "I was only doing my duty and protecting Imladris from a potential danger, what have I to apologize for?"

"I would have thought it to be obvious," Harry spat, taking a threatening step forward, "You accused me of murder, of consorting with the enemy, all the while holding a knife to my throat! I would say that I am more than deserving of an apology."

Legolas visibly bristled, his jaw tensing while he gritted his teeth. A tense moment passed by before he spat out, rather unconvincingly, "I apologize."

"Good," Gandalf cut in before Harry could utter a scathing comment on the insincerity of the apology, "I'm glad we've sorted that out. Now I do believe it is time for supper, is it not Lord Elrond? Shall we head to the dining hall together?"

"Yes," Elrond immediately caught on to Gandalf's attempt to diffuse the tension, "Would you two like to join us? I'm sure you must be very hungry after such a long journey, Legolas."

"Thank you," The blond responded, and as if he had transformed into an entirely new being a smile graced his features, "It would be my pleasure."

"Harry?" Gandalf asked, his grey eyes looking beseechingly at his charge.

"Of course I'll join you. Lead the way."

* * *

Obviously, his first meeting with Legolas had not been ideal and for several days after, the tension between the two had been high. Harry felt slighted, cheated of the proper apology that he knew he deserved. The fact that he had once again been judged unfairly by his rare ability did not help the matter, and he had to admit that the obvious disgust Legolas had felt at hearing him speak parseltongue hurt. It brought back bad memories. And while Harry had gotten used to being judged and looked down upon, it bothered him that such a pure being as an elf would take one look at him and immediately label him as evil.

Naturally, Harry was still cautious when it came to the elf. But as a favour to Strider—who apparently was a very close friend of Legolas—he had decided to not be outright hostile, let bygones be bygones and at least be civil towards the elf. Of course, that did not mean that he would actively seek him out, but should the elf happen to start up a conversation Harry would not reject him.

The trees surrounding him swayed as a particularly strong gust of wind swept through the gardens, rustling the yellowed leaves until they were ripped from the branches and gently fell to the ground. Sighing, Harry closed the book he had been reading, pushing a particularly annoying strand of hair away from his face. With the wind picking up and tearing at the pages it was impossible to read any further, such a pity too, the book had been rather interesting.

Rising from his seat Harry headed back inside, brushing off some stray leaves that had landed on his shoulder. The garden had, officially, become his favourite place in all of Rivendell. Nothing could beat the serenity that embraced him whenever he relaxed and allowed the peaceful surroundings and the almost constant sound of birds singing, to wash over him. The fact that it was in the gardens that he had rediscovered his magic only contributed to the fondness he felt.

"Harry," Lord Elrond's deep voice suddenly reached him, halting him in his step, "I believe I have something of yours."

"Something of..." he trailed off, green eyes zooming in on the long snake tensely wrapped around the elf lord's arm. "Oh dear..."

"Indeed," Elrond ruefully commented, "Perhaps it would be best if you kept a closer eye on it in the future, it startled quite a few maidens before I got to it."

"Of course," Harry murmured, moving forward and holding his arm out so the snake could climb on. Repressing a shiver at the feel of scales rubbing against skin, he continued, "It will not happen again, I assure you."

"Good, I expect I will see you at the council this afternoon then," the elf lord said, before feeling the need to add, "_without_ the snake, mind you."

"No need to worry, I'll leave him in my room, he won't be disturbing us." Harry smiled, ignoring the way the snake was now slithering up his arm to settle around his throat.

Sending a curt nod in Harry's direction, Elrond left, leaving Harry to deal with the snake on his own.

"**Now what to do with you...**" Harry murmured, heading towards his rooms while absentmindedly stroking the snake, eliciting pleased hisses in the process.

"**You could give me the mice I was promised,**" the snake helpfully suggested, leaning into Harry's caresses.

"**I mean,**" Harry continued, "**I couldn't possibly keep you... no, I'll have to send you back, I think.**"

"**I still get my mice, right?**"

"**Yes, yes,**"Harry absentmindedly replied, "**As soon as we reach my rooms you'll have your mice, I promise.**"

"**Very well, then bring me to your rooms." **The snake regally commanded.

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination after that. And within minutes of entering the room, the cobra was eagerly hunting down four brown mice, relishing in their high-pitched squeals of terror each time he closed in on them. Harry would have to send him back soon. Summoning him in the first place had been a bad idea and had already caused Harry enough problems. Besides, the snake was much better off being wherever it was he came from than here with Harry.

A sharp knock echoed through the room just as the snake lunged, sinking his sharp fangs into an unfortunate mouse. Carefully, Harry stepped around the snake and his victim, heading for the door and opening it just enough for him to stick his head out. The sight of a snake brutally devouring its latest meal was not a sight most people would welcome, least of all the female population of Rivendell, so Harry thought it best to hide it from view.

"Will you not let me in, Harry?" Gandalf's deep voice questioned.

"Oh, yes of course," Harry immediately stepped back, opening the door wide to allow Gandalf entrance.

"Thank you," the old wizard smiled, closing the door behind him before freezing at the sight of the large cobra, "So this was the source of Legolas' ire then?"

"I'm afraid so," Harry replied, taking a seat on his bed while gesturing for Gandalf to take the only chair in the room, "I'll be sending him back where he came from tonight."

"Oh? Why?" Gandalf slowly played with his beard like he always did when he had gotten a—in his opinion—brilliant idea.

"Well there is no use keeping him, now is there?"

"I wouldn't say that," Gandalf murmured, a small, clever smile spreading across his face, "In fact, I think he could be very beneficial to you."

Harry leaned forward, "How so?"

"I believe having a familiar could be very helpful in harnessing your magic. The connection between a wizard and his familiar can be a very powerful thing, he would help centre you and in turn help you develop and utilize your magic to its fullest." The wizard was becoming more and more excited at the prospect, his smile widening with every word that tumbled across his lips. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before, really. Why, the bond between Radagast and Altair is a perfect example of how it could work!"

Harry had heard several stories about Radagast, the Brown wizard, and his regal eagle Altair. Gandalf had told him about all his fellow wizards and Harry had been rather intrigued by the story of how Radagast had lost his staff and in return gained Altair, though he had never—until now—realized that Altair literally acted as a wand.

"So," Harry began hesitantly, "he will essentially be doing the same job as a wand?"

"Exactly!" Gandalf cried triumphantly.

"Then why not get me a wand then?"

"I'm afraid there is no way of achieving that, there are only a few magical staffs in this world and they all have an owner and unfortunately we do not possess the materials to make one for you." The wizard leaned back in the chair and crossed his hands over his stomach. "You only have two choices here, Harry. Either you accept the snake as your familiar and act accordingly, or you simply have to realize that there is nothing else that could help enhance your abilities, you'd only have yourself to rely on."

Green eyes scanned the room, settling on the corner where the snake currently lay, munching on a second mouse. "I'll have to talk to him, see what he has to say about it."

"Certainly, but I hope you don't mind waiting a few hours, the Council is beginning soon and my original reason for this visit was to retrieve you."

"Duty calls, hm?" Harry dryly commented.

Gandalf chuckled, "It certainly does."

* * *

**To be continued**


	5. Protector

**Title:** Strange Connection

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta: **BeautifullyShattered

**Warning: **Still nothing to be afraid of, my dears!

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:  
**I know, I know it's been far too long, but I've been terribly busy with school and work so I haven't really had much time to do any writing really. I do apologize for that. But hopefully I'll get more time for it not that it's christmas and I have vacation! I'll try my very best for you guys! :D

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it makes up for taking so long! I'd love to hear what you think so please leave a review when you're done reading!

Merry christmas and have a happy new year!

Love

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"A room without books is like a body without a soul." - Marcus Tullius Cicero_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Protector**

Harry had never seen a dwarf before. He had heard stories; of course, lots of them, but Bilbo had never been quite consistent in his storytelling and each story he told had put the dwarves in a different light, so Harry didn't know quite what to think of them. Until now, that is.

He simply could not take his eyes off of the red haired dwarf sitting right across of him. The short, stocky body, the sharp intimidating axe resting in his hands, those features that seemed to have been carved into his face and the hair! Oh the hair! It was all terribly fascinating and Harry was absolutely delighted to witness it.

"And of course," Gimli continued rambling on, delighted to have found someone so interested in listening to his tales of his home, "nothing beats sitting by the roaring fire with a mug of malt beer after a long day of hard work!"

Harry had, after the Fellowship had been established and the Council had ended, wasted no time in getting to know the dwarf, using every opportunity handed to him to draw Gimli into a conversation. The dwarf was, in a sea of elves, refreshingly unrefined and he was someone Harry found he could completely relax around, someone he did not have to worry about offending. Gimli was a sanctuary, of some sort. And within days of becoming acquainted they had become fast friends.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to loosen the snake—or rather William as he had finally opted to name him—that was slowly tightening its grip around his neck. He still hadn't talked with William about the possibility of him becoming his familiar, and for all he knew, Harry was still intent on sending him home. That had not stopped William from claiming Harry as his though. The snake had quickly decided that it rather liked the human that kept feeding him with mice and had come to the conclusion that he needed to protect him. And so William had begun a rather bothersome habit of wrapping himself around Harry's throat all day long and hissing threateningly at anyone coming too close for his liking. Whatever unfortunate being that decided to ignore this warning was immediately given a second warning, this one in the form of a speedy snap of fangs right in front of their nose.

Needless to say, there were very few people who dared approach Harry these days.

Fortunately, Harry mused as he sent a beaming smile towards his friend, Gimli was not at all affected by the snake's behaviour. "I would love to see it someday, your home, I mean."

"And so you shall, Harry!" Gimli took a sip of his water, "As soon as this ring business is over and done with I will take you with me, and you will bear witness to all the glory my home has to offer! I dare say, it will ruin you for any other place, nothing will compare!"

Reaching forward and grabbing an apple Harry replied, "I'm sure it will be more glorious than anything I have ever seen," before taking a bite out of the green apple, savouring the sour juice that spread across his tongue.

"Indeed it will," Gimli agreed before climbing to his feet, resting his hand on his axe, "I'll tell you more about it this evening, if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful," Harry smiled, watching as the dwarf turned to leave, a small flush spreading across his face.

"You and Gimli seem to be getting along well," Frodo's voice suddenly sounded from behind as the young hobbit came to join Harry at the table.

"He's nice," Harry took another bite out of his apple, "easy to talk to."

"I think he's got a crush on you," Frodo teasingly commented, loading his plate with food, "he's always blushing around you, and these adoring looks he sends you when he thinks you're not looking..."

"You're such an idiot," Harry laughed, "What is it with you and my love-life? You always assume somebody has a crush on me."

"Well it has been terribly lacking these last years, hasn't it? You can't blame me for wanting to see you happy and in love."

"And what if I don't want to be happy and in love?"

"Everyone wants to be in love." A familiar voice suddenly joined in on their conversation.

"Really? Isn't that a bit presumptuous of you?" Harry stiffly turned around to face Legolas, "To assume that you know other people's wishes."

"I would never assume to know such, but I do know that there is an urge to love and be loved in every being. It is only natural that you should experience being in love at least once in your life." The elf defended, remaining calm and unaffected, before changing the subject. "You'll have to excuse me; I did not come here with the intention of engaging in such a discussion, I was merely sent to deliver you a message."

"Of course, I'm all ears."

"Gandalf wants you to join him in the gardens, as soon as you are done with breakfast." With a strained smile, the elf gave a short bow, sent Harry an odd, penetrating look and left to join his party of elves.

"That was strange," Frodo commented, "don't you think?"

"He's an elf," Harry simply replied, sending his friend a playful smile, "they are all strange."

After having finished his breakfast, Harry headed out in search of Gandalf, quickly finding him in the pavilion situated in the garden. Though, the wizard was not alone as Harry had expected him to be. Sitting to Gandalf's right was Lord Elrond, looking as elegant and regal as ever.

"Come join us, Harry!" Gandalf called and, since his hands were occupied—one with his pipe and the other with his tea—gestured for him with his teacup.

He climbed the white stairs and took the only seat available, right across from them both.

"Would you like a cup?" Elrond asked, already in the process of pouring the tea.

"Yes, thank you."

"Now," Gandalf said when Harry had made himself comfortable and taken a sip out of his tea, "We have something of a rather serious manner to discuss with you."

"If this is about the incident with the milk I can assure you that that was all Merry and Pippin's work, I had nothing to do with it!" Harry cried, before Gandalf could get another word in.

"No, no," Gandalf chuckled, grey eyes twinkling mischievously for a moment, "this is not about that, I have already extracted my revenge for that. This is about the Fellowship and the Ring and your part in the journey. We—that is, Lord Elrond and I—feel it would be best if you, due to the present limitations of your magic, were to learn to wield a weapon."

"A weapon?"

"Yes, archery, to be more precise," Elrond joined in.

Harry sat up straighter, ignoring William's indignant hiss at the sudden movement, "Archery? Why not swordsmanship?"

"Because," The elf lord answered, "as I am sure you know, the hobbits are currently being trained in the art of swordsmanship by Aragorn and Boromir, and I am afraid that with four, unruly hobbits they have their hands full. There is simply no one who has the time to teach you how to fight with swords."

"So archery was the backup plan. Who will be my teacher then?" Green eyes turned to look at Gandalf, making it clear that the question was his to answer.

The wizard hesitated, taking a drag from his pipe before answering, "Legolas will be your teacher."

* * *

"Take a deep breath," a calm voice spoke, as strong hands manipulated his body into position, "hold it, aim and, when you feel calm enough, release."

There was, Harry mused as he went through Legolas' instructions, something strangely therapeutic about archery. It calmed him and sent him into a state of tranquillity. Releasing that string, allowing the arrow to fly and watching as it hit its target always sent a most wonderful thrill through him. A sense of accomplishment.

"Good," the elf murmured, blue eyes gazing proudly at the arrow imbedded in the target, "you've improved."

"I have yet to hit the centre, though," Harry replied, lowering his arms in slight disappointment.

"It'll come, with practice," Legolas answered, "now do it again."

They continued on for hours, until Harry's arms were so strained that he could barely lift them when commanded to. Though, he persisted without complaint. After the first week, he had learnt that Legolas was a firm teacher that did not accept any excuses. The elf had pushed him hard from the very beginning, claiming that he would rather see Harry exhausted and with a few blisters than to have him die due to lack of skill. Harry could not find any fault in _that_ reasoning.

It was only when the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the sky had darkened to a deep black, that Legolas finally released him. The elf left, as he always did, as fast as he possibly could. In the beginning Harry had not been bothered by it, in fact, he had preferred it that way. But as the lessons passed by and he had gotten to know the elf a bit better, and thus stopped disliking him, he couldn't help but to wonder if there was something about him that repulsed his tutor.

Or, he mused as William came into view after what looked to be an unsuccessful hunt, perhaps it was simply due to him fearing Harry's snake. There were, after all, few people in Rivendell that did not and William had been just as hostile, if not more so, towards Legolas as he had been the rest of Rivendell's occupants.

"**Did you have a good hunt?**" Harry questioned as he bent down to pick up the snake.

"**No,**" William hissed irately, wrapping himself around Harry's neck, "**I saw nothing worth eating.**"

"**Shall I bring you some mice tonight, then?**" He gathered his bow and quiver, counting to make sure that all his arrows were where they should be.

"**There is no need, bring me with you when you dine and I shall find the kitchens,**" William nuzzled his head into the crook of Harry's throat, "**there is always something to catch there.**"

"**So long as you are not seen,**" Harry murmured, yanking the last arrow he had shot from the target, "**and so long as you don't bring your bounty to my room, despite your belief, I do not enjoy waking up to you and a half-eaten rodent resting on my pillow.**"

"**I only wanted to share my meal with you,**" The snake defended as they made their way inside, "**you should be honoured.**"

Harry scoffed, walking with confident steps until he reached his room, and changed the subject. "**Promise you will behave yourself.**"

"**I always behave myself; it is the others who do not.**"

Carefully, Harry placed his bow by the bed and allowed the leather strap of his quiver to slide off his shoulder and allowing it to join the bow on the floor. "**Of course it is, and that is why I always have to keep you from biting someone's finger off.**"

"**Am I not allowed to react when provoked?**" William retorted when they headed for dinner.

"**React?!**" Harry cried, "**You do not react, you overreact!**"

"**I am not above biting you, you know.**"

"**My point exactly,**" the young wizard triumphantly said.

It did not take them long to reach the dining hall, only a few minutes, and as soon as Harry sat down by the table William slithered off him asking, "**Are you sure you don't want me to bring you something as well? I'm sure I could find you a big, juicy mouse.**"

"**Thank you for your consideration, but I have all I need here.**" Harry smiled, ignoring the vary looks sent his way.

"**Have it your way.**" William slunk off.

After having made sure that William had safely exited the dining hall, Harry turned towards the table and the flourish of food on it. His stomach growled, twisting and turning in a reminder that he had not eaten anything since that morning. He loaded his plate with some bread, cheese and various fruits. Carefully, he poured himself a glass of water, opting to stay away from alcohol, despite the fact that there were many who were already on the brink of being drunk.

He speared a grape with his fork, the motion unfamiliar to him who—back in the Shire—had always been used to merely using his fingers. The formality of Rivendell was a far cry from the simplicity of the Shire. Bilbo had never been too keen on drilling manners and etiquette into Harry and Frodo's skulls; instead he had much rather preferred encouraging their curiosity, their lust for adventure.

Bilbo's mindset had suited Harry perfectly.

"It is ghastly, is it not?" Gimli's gruffly commented as the dwarf joined him, taking the seat across from Harry.

"What?" Harry questioned, caught off guard.

"The lack of meat, that's what," Gimli poured himself a cup of ale, "I have not had a slice of pork, beef or any meat whatsoever for weeks now. How is a dwarf to survive when he is only served fruit and bread?!"

Harry chuckled, green eyes shining with amusement.

"This is no laughing matter, Harry!" the dwarf cried, "a man needs his meat; I could very well die without it!"

"Then I'll make sure to catch you a rabbit or something when our journey begins, until then I am afraid you'll have to make do with what you have at hand, Gimli." He replied after swallowing a piece of cheese. "Besides, it is not so bad; the apples here are very tasty."

Gimli scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh come off it, Gimli," Harry exasperatedly said, "I saw you enjoying a rather large meal of both fruit and bread last night, and—I must add—were practically moaning at the taste of it."

And without allowing the dwarf to reply, he picked up an apple and offered it to him, "Now take this, eat and I won't tell anyone that you secretly adore the elves' cooking."

With a grunt, Gimli grabbed the apple, taking a large out of it as he sent Harry a glare. His mouth full, he said, "Happy?"

Harry drily replied, "Ecstatic."

Even though he had already finished his meal, Harry stayed to keep Gimli with company. In his right hand he cradled his drink, taking an occasional sip now and then.

"How is your training doing then?" Gimli asked as he finished the apple, "Have you tired of the elf yet?"

"Shockingly, no," Harry replied, "he's actually a rather good teacher and I find I don't mind spending time with him either."

"Really?" A pair of red eyebrows arched in surprise, "He's not as dull as he seems then?"

Harry sent a small smile the dwarf's way, "Only you would think an elf to be dull, Gimli."

"Well they are, they own no sense of humour and always walk around with their nose high up in the air. They think too highly of themselves, in my opinion."

"I wouldn't say that," Harry countered, "They might seem a bit standoffish at times, but after having gotten to know them better I rather like them."

"Yes, yes," Gimli waved his hand, as if flicking away something annoying, "I've already heard you say that. I don't see why though, after the way your _teacher_ treated you that time."

Harry almost regretted ever telling Gimli of his first meeting with Legolas. The dwarf had managed to bring the incident up in every discussion they had about the race of elves. And frankly, Harry had begun to tire of it. "Do you always have to bring that up?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Gimli cooled down before he could deliver the no doubt passionate speech he had built up, "Let's move onto a more pleasant subject."

And so they did.

They stayed in the dining hall for hours, simply talking while doing everything in their power to avoid the subject of elves. Eventually Harry grew tired and called it a night, retreating to his room after making sure that a rather drunk Gimli had safely found his bed.

William had not returned from his hunt, so Harry made sure to leave the door slightly ajar so the snake could get in without help. It only took him a few minutes to shed his clothes and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was lost to reality.

The next morning he was—just as he had feared—greeted with a large, dead rat on his pillow. As he had dressed for the day, the rat still lying in his bed, he had worked up quite the scolding for William, determined to make him stop with the constant flow of corpses being brought to his room. However, when he was faced with the proud face of William the words that had been on the very tip of his tongue disappeared to be replaced by a thank you.

He did not have the heart to deny William of the pride and joy he had so obviously felt at presenting Harry with his offering. And so, with a barely contained grimace of disgust, he picked up the rat by its tail and threw it to William while saying, "**I'm not particularly hungry at the moment, William, you should eat it yourself.**"

"**Are you certain?**"

"**Oh yes!**" Harry immediately replied, "**And if I do get hungry I'll just head down to the kitchens and grab something to eat there.**"

"**If you're certain,**" William murmured, before proceeding to gleefully swallow the rat whole.

Leaving the snake to his meal, Harry decided against going to breakfast. His appetite had been ruined and he did not particularly feel like watching the others eat while fighting to keep the bile from rising. Instead, he opted for heading out to the gardens, figuring that it would not hurt to arrive early to his meeting with Gandalf. If the wizard wasn't there it would simply give him some time to practice his magic on his own.

As he neared their usual spot, the scent of Gandalf's usual tobacco wafted into his nostrils. He quickened his step, only slowing down when Gandalf's grey form came into view.

"Harry!" The wizard called, "You're here early."

"I could say the same to you," Harry smiled.

"Ah yes, but I am, however, your teacher and as such I am required to be early." Gandalf inhaled deeply from his pipe, holding it in for a few seconds before slowly letting the smoke slip past his lips. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat."

"Thank you," he mumbled, doing as commanded and taking a seat beside him.

For a moment they sat in silence, Gandalf occupied by his pipe while Harry simply stared out into the air, taking the opportunity to wake up properly.

"Have you spoken with the snake yet?" Gandalf broke the silence.

"No, not yet, but something tells me that he won't be too much against the idea of being my familiar. He has become frighteningly possessive of me and has gotten the idea that he has to provide for me, this morning I woke up to a dead rat on my pillow."

Grey eyes twinkled, "so I've noticed, I don't think there is a single being in Rivendell who has not had the pleasure of meeting your protector, Harry. And you should be thankful that he cares so much that he chooses to hunt for you, trust me, he truly is a valuable companion in the making. You have been most fortunate."

Harry hummed in agreement, "I know, I'll make sure to ask him this evening."

"Good," the old wizard climbed to his feet, "now let's get on with the lesson, shall we?"

The morning passed by in a blur of magic and instructions, Harry blindly obeying ever command Gandalf gave. He was eager, driven by a desperate longing to see his magic at its former glory again, to see the small flame grow into a roaring fire. And this longing was only furthered by every spell and charm he cast. It was like a drug, with every dose he got, he only wanted more.

His training with Gandalf, Harry concluded, was very different from his training at Hogwarts. There was no theory, only instructions and actions. In a way, he had to admit that he much preferred Gandalf's way of doing magic. He enjoyed being able to manipulate things with a hand movement, but more than that he relished in being able to feel his magic as he used it. Somehow, being able to do and feel magic with his body instead of a wand was much more personal and intense. It allowed him to get to know his magic as an extension of himself and not just an ability he had.

"To manipulate the elements," Gandalf began, after having seen Harry's first attempt at controlling the wind, "you must know them, be at one with them. You must be as fiery as the fire, solid as the earth, tranquil as the water and as light as the wind. Otherwise you can never properly utilize them. Now, try again and keep that in mind."

Harry obeyed and once again attempted to stir up the air. Closing his eyes he brought forth the lightness and freedom he had always felt whenever he was on a broom. He focused in on that feeling, stoking it and willing it to grow stronger and stronger. With a calm breath, Harry clenched his hand into a fist and slowly lifted it into the air. A few seconds passed by before he quickly opened his hand, spread his fingers and sharply thrust his hand forward. A gust of wind originating from his palm suddenly flew through the air, disturbing the many leaves that lay scattered on the ground.

"Good," Gandalf said with a wide grin when Harry opened his eyes, "very good, Harry. I'll make a wizard out of you yet."

Harry laughed.

Later that evening, after several hours of practicing magic, Harry joined the rest of the Fellowship for dinner. Being the last to arrive, Harry quietly slipped into the seat between Frodo and Merry that had obviously been left for him. The group was alone in the dining room, a part of Gandalf's scheme of getting them all to know one another.

They had gotten a head start on him, it seemed, as Gimli was in the middle of telling them about his magnificent home. Having heard it countless times before, Harry immediately tuned out and turned towards Frodo and started up a conversation with him instead.

"How are you today, Frodo?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "is your shoulder still bothering you?"

"Much better," the hobbit replied, a small smile gracing his features as he took a bite out of his bread, "it is getting better with each day that passes, some days I barely even feel it."

"But it has not completely healed." Harry stated what Frodo would not. From what he had heard of Lord Elrond's healing Frodo's wound should have been healed by now, with only a scar to show for it. It worried him that the wound lingered, refusing to relinquish its hold on Frodo. How would Frodo fare on their quickly approaching journey if he was struggling with an injury even before it had begun?

"There's no need to worry, Harry," Frodo laid a hand on Harry's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, "it will heal in time, I am sure."

Green eyes shone with affection as Harry stared at the hobbit he had grown up with. "I know I've been very busy lately and haven't been spending as much time with you as I should have liked, but I love you more than anything on this earth, Frodo, you do know that, don't you?"

"You are my brother, Harry, we're family," Frodo said, a fierce look in his eyes as he leaned closer, "I would never think anything else."

"Yes, family," and with a kiss to Frodo's forehead Harry turned back to his meal and joined in on the conversation going around the table.

After having eaten his fill Harry excused himself from the table and retreated to his room. The sky had turned dark as he walked through the hallways of Imladris, a single candle the only thing that lit his way. The shadows danced across his face as a slight gust of wind tore through the hallway, making the tiny candlelight flame flutter.

"**Welcome back**," William hissed as Harry opened the door and stepped in, "**I trust you've had a fulfilling day.**"

It never ceased to amaze Harry how eloquent the snake was, always using big words that, at times, even Harry had trouble understanding. Harry imagined that talking to William was like talking to an arrogant, old English lord. And this image had largely been the reason for Harry naming him William. William had to be the smartest snake Harry had ever had the pleasure of talking to.

"**I had a wonderful day,**" Harry replied, not bothering to light any more candles and instead started to undress himself, "**And you?**"

"**Oh, it has been a very satisfying day.**"

"**Good,**" Harry murmured distractedly as he climbed into bed, "**Listen, I have something I would like to ask you." **

"**I know,**" William simply stated.

"**You know?**" An eyebrow rose incredulously.

"**Of course I know, my silly human," **William crawled onto the bed and settled down on Harry's pillow, "**Did you think I would leave you unprotected? No, I have been keeping an eye on you, I have been protecting you. You are mine; it is not difficult to figure out that you would like me to be yours as well.**"

"**So what you are saying,**" Harry began, licking his dry lips, "**Is that you would like to be my familiar?**"

"**Protector is a much better title, don't you think?**"

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	6. A Most Unfortunate Encounter

**Title: **Strange Connections

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta:** Beautifully Shattered

**Warning:** I wouldn't say that there is anything extreme in this chapter, but certain scenes are certainly not suited for little kiddies!

**Disclaimer:**_Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._**  
**

**A/N: **And here we are again, dearies, another chapter has been finished by yours truly and I have to say that I am rather excited about this one. I feel as if the story is moving at a natural pace and that the relationships within the Fellowship is also doing the same. Things are finally starting to move forward and I have a feeling that the next couple of chapters will be rather exciting, both for me to write and for you to read!

Anyway, enough about that. I hope this chapter will satisfy your hunger for more, at least for a little while. As always I would really appreciate any feedback you are willing to give me, it feeds my creativity. :P

Hugs & kisses

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." - Oscar Wilde_

* * *

**Chapter 5:  
**

**A Most Unfortunate Encounter  
**

A chilly breeze blew through the courtyard, sending shivers down Harry's back as his thick, woollen cloak danced around him. They had stayed in Rivendell throughout winter, and even though spring had finally established its hold on the world, a reminder of the winter's cold would occasionally sneak up on them.

Shifting restlessly from one foot to the other, Harry adjusted the grip he had on his backpack, his fist tightening around the shoulder strap. He was growing impatient, eager to get going. Harry had never been particularly fond of drawn out goodbyes and had made a point of saying his farewells earlier that morning. The rest of the group did not seem to share his view, he mused, as the parting dragged on and emotional goodbyes were exchanged.

William shifted, comfortingly tightening his grip on Harry's arm. The snake had become very adept at sensing Harry's feelings, always knowing when to cheer him up or give him quiet support. Their bond had strengthened significantly during the past few weeks and Harry had barely spent a moment without him. In fact, he had grown so used to having the snake constantly wrapped around him that he felt naked the few times they were apart.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring bearer," Gandalf's voice grabbed his attention; dragging him from his thoughts long enough to realize that the farewells had ended without his knowledge. And with those words, their journey began.

Hours passed by and before he knew it Rivendell and the lands surrounding it disappeared from view. The sky, which had previously been covered in grey clouds, cleared up and soon enough Harry could feel the sun shining on his skin, relishing in the warmth it brought him. William had decided to take advantage of the weather as well, coming out from Harry's clothing and positioning himself so he could catch as much sun as possible. All in all, they couldn't have had a better start of their journey.

With a slight grimace, he adjusted his bow, moving it so the string stopped cutting into his throat. He would have preferred to have fastened it to his rucksack to avoid the discomfort, but Legolas had been adamant he keep it on his body and within easy reach. One never knows when the enemy might happen upon us, you should always be prepared for that, the elf had said with a serious face.

"The bow is bothering you again, I see," Gimli came walking up beside him, a smug look on his face. "Did I not tell you? You should have learned to wield an axe, not some wimpy bow."

"Yes, I know," Harry exasperatedly said, "you've said so on more than one occasion."

"I must be right then," Gimli grinned, fingering the handle of his favourite axe, "for you to have given me some many opportunities to say it."

"Right about what?" Pippin's curious voice cut in as he joined them.

"Gimli here," Harry began, "is of the impression that the axe is a far more superior weapon than the bow, and he despairs of me having learned how to shoot an arrow instead of throwing an axe. Which is utter rubbish, of course, I could kill an orc just as easily with my bow as he could with his axes."

Gimli gasped, hand rising to cover his heart as if he had been gravely wounded. "What has that elf done? He has ruined you! He should never have been allowed to train you; I should have been your teacher! What a fierce warrior you would have become!"

By now the others had taken notice of their conversation and while for the most part they were amused, Harry could see a glint of annoyance flash in Legolas' eyes.

"Now, now, Gimli," Gandalf joined in, "while I'm sure you would have done a magnificent job, we cannot deny that Legolas has been a very good teacher. Don't you agree, Harry?"

"He's been a very good and patient teacher, yes." Harry admitted.

"There," Gandalf smiled, "you see Gimli, despite not having you as his mentor, Harry is not completely lost."

"Humph," the dwarf expressed his displeasure while his mood turned sour and he dropped back to make up the back of the group.

As Harry shared a laugh with the rest of his group, he made a silent vow to make this up to Gimli at a later time. The dwarf had taken a blow to his ego, and Harry knew how much Gimli cherished his ego—as most dwarves did. And just as Harry knew this, he knew that it would take a couple of hours for Gimli to emerge from the sulk he was currently in and that it was best to leave the dwarf to do it on his own.

They travelled mostly in silence after that, having reached a patch with some rough terrain and putting all their efforts into manoeuvring through it. Between staying on his feet, and helping the hobbits, there simply was not any room for conversation.

The terrain turned friendlier and night silently crept upon them. It did not take them long to find an appropriate clearing to set up camp in and soon enough they had a fire going and was in the process of making some food. The smell of roasted tomatoes and sausages filled the air, wafting into Harry's nostrils and awakening the rumbling monster that was his stomach. He was practically salivating by the time the food was plated and handed out.

"**You'll find your own dinner, won't you?" **Harry hissed to William, lowering his hand to the ground so the snake could slither off him.

William scoffed, **"Of course, my silly human. Eat your food and let me worry about mine."**

Without further ado, the snake disappeared into the forest surrounding them.

Harry turned back to face the fire, ignoring the unnerved looks sent his way. The majority of the Fellowship had yet to come to terms with Harry's ability, growing unsettled each time Harry struck up a conversation with his familiar. It reminded them an awful lot of the Ringwraiths, Frodo had commented when Harry had asked about it.

After having finished his food, Harry rose to his feet, declaring that he was going in search of a creek in order to wash himself. He reeked of sweat, and all he had been able to think about for the better part of the day had been a warm, steaming bath.

With only a clean set of clothes clutched in his hand he set off into the woods, heading in the direction he had thought he'd heard the sound of running water. More than a few minutes passed before he reached the creek, and he had walked so far that he could no longer see the light from the fire nor hear the sound of his companions' voices.

Content with the knowledge that no one could see him, Harry stripped until he was as naked as the day he had been born. A slight shiver ran through him as he slowly stepped into the chilly water, clenching his teeth as the cold hit him. Determined to get it over with as quickly as possible, Harry immediately squatted down and scooped up some water in his hands, throwing it onto himself and beginning the process of bathing.

He couldn't have been in the water for more than a couple of minutes when the quiet sound of bushes rustling reached his ears. He stopped moving, straining his ears to catch the sound again. Once more the bushes rustled and Harry cursed his lack of caution in not bringing his weapon. Hurriedly, he exited the water, scrambling for his clothes and he had barely gotten his trousers on when the most hideous creature Harry had ever seen stepped into view.

Harry had never seen an orc before, but the stories Bilbo had told matched this creature perfectly. Hideous yellow eyes were set in a dark, mangled face, the creature's teeth stuck out in several directions, barely covered by the scarred lips. The orc's broad, armour covered body was intimidating to say the least. But what really caught Harry's attention was the long, hooked sword covered in old, clotted blood. Once again it hit him, he was without a weapon.

The orc raised his sword and took a step forward. Harry screamed.

Before he knew it he had started running, his feet having no other choice but to carry him away from the direction of the campsite, as the orc had been standing between him and his rescue. Loud snarls erupted from the being chasing him as Harry weaved through the trees, always changing directions in an attempt to shake his pursuer off.

The thought of using his magic hit him, but he dismissed it as quickly as it had come. By the time he had managed to conjure the spell he needed, his head would already be laying on the ground, tainting the green grass with his blood. No, he would have to continue running and pray that his friends reached them before he was drained of energy, or worse, dead.

A squeak escaped him when he barely managed to drop to the ground and roll out of the way of the vicious looking sword aimed at his neck. The air was knocked out of him as the orc's foot violently connected with his stomach. As swift as a panther the orc was over him, straddling him and with two quick throws pinned him down with two daggers embedded in his arms, not enough to do serious damage, but just so that they caught his flesh.

Leering, the orc hissed, "and where do you think you're going, pet? Don't you want to stay and play?"

Harry screamed, his voice echoing through the night. The pain was excruciating, his arms were burning as if a hot poker had been brought to them and his belly was throbbing where a large bruise was surely forming. A sharp blade held to his throat and drawing a single drop of blood immediately cut off his shriek.

"Quiet!" The orc snarled before a disgusting smile crawled onto his face, "We wouldn't want anyone to find us and ruin our fun, now would we?"

Harry bucked and wildly kicked his feet, desperately trying to throw the orc off him as panic slowly crept upon him. His breath was coming in frantic pants and dark pupils surrounded by green irises widened when the orc forced even more of his weight on him, immediately immobilizing him and putting pressure on his bruised belly. Still, despite the pain shooting through him, he did not dare shout.

"Ah, such a good, _good_, boy you are." The creature's putrid breath hit him like a wave, floating into his nose and bringing tears to his eyes. Nausea grabbed a hold of him, accompanied by a horrible dizziness that made the whole world spin.

A whooshing sound reached his ears then, followed by a dull thud and an insanely loud shriek. The oppressing weight suddenly disappeared, allowing him to catch his breath. Sounds of a scuffle erupted in the air, but all Harry could focus on was the immense relief coursing through him as Frodo's concerned face came into view.

"Harry," the hobbit breathed, panicky eyes zeroing in on his bloodstained arms.

"Hi, Frodo," Harry replied, smiling slightly.

"How are you?" Frodo questioned.

"I'm afraid I've seen better days, but it's not too bad," He tried to reassure.

"Not too bad?" Frodo cried, growing upset and catching the attention of the rest of the group, "you are nailed to the ground by two knives, Harry, this is bad, really bad."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with the lad, Harry," Gimli's gruff voice joined them, "who knows how deep those wounds are. We need to get those knives out of you, and get you treated."

Sighing, Harry allowed his head to fall back to the ground, closing his eyes in resignation. The next 24 hours would be filled with pain, he mused, as Aragorn kneeled by his side and grabbed a hold of the hilt of one knife.

"Take a deep breath," the ranger said, and placed a piece of leather between Harry's teeth, "and bite down on this. Try not to scream, Harry."

Harry gave a nervous laugh at Aragorn's words, bracing himself for the pain to come. He took comfort in the hand grabbing a hold of his, Frodo's fingers interlacing with his own and giving a reassuring squeeze.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as a sharp flash of burning pain burst through his arm. A muffled cry escaped him before he could control himself and he bit down so hard on the piece of leather that he was sure he would have broken his teeth had it not been there.

"Take this cloth, Frodo" Harry could hear Aragorn order, "And hold it to the wound, make sure to keep a firm pressure on it."

Aragorn turned to the second knife, breathing in deeply before tightening his grip and pulling it out. A quick groan sounded from Harry before the pain became too much and he descended in the sweet relief that was darkness.

Gandalf turned away from the scene before him, his heart twisting with concern and pain at seeing his young charge in so much pain. He was in the best of hands though and Gandalf was certain that Aragorn would stitch him together until he was as good as new.

"Boromir, Legolas" he called, focusing on the matter of the dead orc, "let us be rid of the body. Harry cannot be moved tonight and I would not have him sleeping in the same camp as his attacker."

With a nod, the elf and man moved towards the unmoving orc, removing the arrow sticking out of his back before dragging him away from the campsite. Certain that the two would properly dispose of the body Gandalf turned to setting up camp, making a fire before moving to their old camp and retrieving their belongings.

Hours passed by and as the rest of the group settled down around the camp, Aragorn continued working on Harry through the night, determined to stave off any potential infection. By the time the sun rose and morning dawned upon them, the ranger was exhausted with lack of sleep. His efforts had not been wasted, however. Harry's wounds were clean, infection free and bandaged. The young wizard had lasted through the night without any sign of fever and his face, which had previously been a pale white, had finally gained some colour.

He did not wake though. Throughout the entire day Harry stayed unconscious, not even waking when William returned and threw a fit, wrapping himself around his master and biting at whoever tried to approach. Considering the fact that none of them could waste any energy carrying the young wizard, and that none of them would risk William's lethal bite, they decided to stay another night. Praying that Harry would wake the next day.

* * *

"**Worthless humans,**" an agitated and very familiar voice hissed, "**I leave my master in their care, trusting them to keep him safe and they let him be injured. I should kill them all!**"

Harry could feel William wrapped around his right thigh, sporadically tightening and releasing his grip on the limb in an attempt to reign himself in as he continued his rant. Hissing insult after insult, the snake fired himself up.

"**You wouldn't actually kill them, would you?**" Harry questioned, a small smile twisting his lips as he opened his eyes.

A delighted cry escaped the snake as he quickly slithered his way up Harry's body until he rested on the wizard's chest, looking straight into his eyes. "**Master! You have awakened!**"

"**Yes, just in time too, I hear.**"

"**Oh I wouldn't have killed them,**" William replied, "**You would never have forgiven me if I had.**"

"**That is **_**so**_** reassuring to hear,**" Harry replied, shifting slightly and attempting to push his body up in a sitting position, wincing and gasping as a flash of pain swept through him.

"**You should lie still,**" William admonished, his tongue flickering out and tasting the air. "**I can smell the fresh blood on you.**"

And true enough, his wounds seemed to have opened, bleeding through the white bandages and staining them red.

"They're just flesh wounds, they'll heal up nicely so long as you are careful with them and change the bandages regularly," Aragorn joined them, kneeling by Harry's side with a strained smile, "It's good to see you're awake, Harry."

"How long have I been unconscious?" Harry questioned, though really asking: _How long have I delayed us?_

"For two days, we've been quite worried." Aragorn reached up to place his palm on Harry's forehead, before reaching down to undo the bandages to take a look at the wounds.

They looked better than Harry had thought they would, despite the blood pumping from them. There were clear signs of the wounds crusting over, that they were healing. Aragorn was right; they would heal up nicely, though probably not without leaving a scar. It would be a reminder not to be so careless in the future.

Harry was perfectly capable of realizing that it was his fault, his stupidity that had led to this situation. But he was also capable of realizing that doing anything other than moving on and learning from it was not acceptable. It would only further delay their mission.

"I'll be fine to travel, right?" He looked into Aragorn's eyes, hissing soothingly to William when the snake grew restless.

"So long as you're careful with your arms, yes," The ranger began rewrapping Harry's arms, saying, "Though, I imagine you'll be in quite the amount of pain, considering the horrible bruise on your stomach."

"It is fine," Harry dismissed, "I'll manage, don't mention anything to the hobbits about it though, they'll only worry needlessly."

"If that is your wish," Aragorn relented, "but at least turn to the others for support if it becomes too much. I'll mention it to Legolas and Boromir and tell them to be discreet about it."

"Thank you, Aragorn, you're literally a lifesaver."

"I know," the man smiled, "now make sure you keep the life I've saved intact, I would hate to see it wasted."

"**I should have bit him,**" William hissed, glaring heatedly in Aragorn's direction.

"**What on earth would that accomplish?**" Harry questioned, eyebrows arched as he began the tedious process of getting to his feet.

"**It would leave me immensely satisfied; these blundering fools have been trying to get you away from me for two days now.**" The snake snorted, "**as if I would leave you when you are injured!**"

"**I thought we'd been over this, already. As much as I appreciate your protective streak, I'd also appreciate it if you'd not bite my companions. I'm sort of relying on them for my survival, and I'm rather fond of them.**"

William sighed, slithering up his body to wrap gently around Harry's throat, "**Fine, as much as I would like to bite them, I promise I shall leave them be.**"

"**Thank you.**"

Without further ado, Harry joined the rest of the group, immediately assuring them that he was fine and fit for travelling. It didn't take long to pack up their things and soon enough they were on their way.

It became clear, in the first hour or two, that the next couple of days would not be easy. His body ached with every step he took, the muscles in his stomach screaming out with every jostling movement. He kept from crying out though; not wanting to show any sign of pain that would worry the hobbits.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Legolas joined him when he fell to the back of the group.

"Like hell," he admitted, slightly out of breath and wincing as another bout of pain washed over him.

"Here," Legolas reached out, grabbing a hold of Harry's rucksack to relieve him of it, "I'll take this for you."

Harry stopped, carefully extracting his arms from the leather straps, sending the elf a relieved and grateful look, "Thank you, Legolas."

"No matter," Legolas sent a small smile back, looking anxious to keep going, as if he was uncomfortable with their conversation, "If you experience any more discomfort, just call out and I'll do my best to assist you."

From there on the journey became much smoother for Harry. His wounds began healing and within two weeks the bruise which had bothered him so faded from view and his mood seemed to lighten.

"Would you like a tomato, Harry?" Sam's shy voice asked, already in the process of making Harry a plate.

"Yes, please," Harry smiled, taking a seat beside the shy hobbit and gratefully accepting the food offered to him.

Taking a small bite out of the delicious tomato, Harry turned to gaze at the spectacle unwinding before him. Sometime after Harry's unfortunate run in with the orc, Boromir had taken it upon himself to continue training the hobbits. After their journey had began there had been little time to continue any sort of training, whether it be the hobbits' swordsmanship or Harry's archery, but apparently the man had found it necessary to make time for it.

Harry had taken to observing every lesson and found himself mightily impressed with the hobbits' skill. They had taken well to fighting with the sword, it seemed, for they confidently swung it around to attack their opponents. And while they were nowhere near Aragorn and Boromir's level they could definitely hold their own in battle.

It comforted him, assuring him that if, heaven forbid, something was to separate them they would at least be able to put up a fight and protect themselves.

Finishing his food, he handed the plate back to Sam before rising from his seat to stretch out his legs. While he for the most part had gotten used to hiking through the terrain, he could not deny the fact that at the end of each day his feet and lower back ached terribly. Fortunately, he had found that stretching his limbs each time they had a break very much helped to lessen the pain.

With a satisfied sigh Harry straightened up before moving to join Legolas. It never ceased to amaze him how seriously Legolas took his role in the Fellowship, always alert and ready for an attack when others weren't. Even now the elf was scouting the area, on the lookout for danger.

"Do you never rest?" Harry questioned, green eyes looking curiously at the blond.

"Whatever do you mean?" The elf replied, his sharp gaze never leaving their surroundings.

"I mean, in all the weeks we have been travelling together I have never seen you rest properly, you're always doing something," he took a breath before adding, "You're always tense."

"I am an elf, "Legolas answered, finally deigning to look at him, "we elves do not need as much rest as other races. Were you worried?"

Harry flushed, "I was merely curious."

"All the same," a small smile tugged at the elf's lips, "I appreciate the concern, intended or not."

Something seemed to catch his attention then, causing him to spin around to get a closer look at something in the distance. The air was suddenly packed with tension, and Harry found himself moving slightly closer to the elf in an attempt to see what had caught his attention.

"What is it?" Harry questioned, casting a quick glance back at the camp to locate his bow, just in case.

"I'm not quite certain," Legolas said, taking a step forward.

By now the rest of the group had tuned into what was happening and began making their way towards the pair, questioning looks on their faces.

"What is that?" Sam called out, voice practically dripping with apprehension.

"It's just a whiff of cloud," Boromir answered, but even he seemed to be in doubt.

"It can't be," Aragorn stated, his hand reaching for his sword, "it's moving against the wind."

"Crebain from Dûnland! Hide!" Legolas shouted, spinning around and placing a hand on Harry's lower back to force him into motion.

A sharp gasp escaped Harry as he jumped down from the boulder he had been standing on, immediately sprinting towards his belongings. He threw his rucksack onto his back, fingers tightening around the wood of his bow. Frantic green eyes searched their surroundings, desperate for a hiding place when he caught sight of a slight crack underneath one of the boulders that was just big enough for him to slide into.

With the sound of wings flapping and caws growing louder and louder Harry ran for cover, throwing himself under the boulder and turning just in time to see Aragorn grab Frodo, sprinting for a bush and throwing them both under it. Mere seconds later, the Crebain were upon them, circling their camping site with loud shrieks that sent a flash of terror through Harry. They would be caught, he was sure of it.

Three agonizing minutes, filled with high shrieks and caws, passed by before suddenly the crows circled one last time and flew off into the direction they had come from until they were nothing but a small, black dot in the sky.

The silence that followed was overwhelming, and Harry scarcely dared to breathe in fear of breaking it. He lingered beneath the rock, hesitant to leave his hiding place just in case the Crebain decided to turn around. When minutes flew passed and it became clear that they would not return, he hesitantly crawled out from the rock.

Aragorn came to stand beside him, offering him a calloused hand in assistance. Grateful, Harry took the offered hand, practically flying to his feet and nearly crashing into Aragorn when the man gave what seemed to be a gentle tug.

"Steady there," the man said, "are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry smiled, releasing Aragorn's hand when he had gotten his wits about him, "I'm fine, it was just a bout of dizziness."

The ranger sent him an unconvinced look, hesitating for a moment before deciding to let it pass and turning towards the rest of their company.

"Let's join the others."

* * *

**To be continued**


	7. Flaming Lure

**Title: **Flaming Lure

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Beta:** BeautifullyShattered

**Warning: **There's nothing to cry about, nothing to close your eyes in fear of, it is mostly safe!

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N: **

It has been a very long time since I posted the last chapter and I truly have to apologize to everyone for that. It truly was not my intention, but I came along some bumps here and there while writing the chapter, and when I was finally done with it I had trouble getting a hold of my Beta. I still haven't hear anything from her about this chapter, but since it has been such a long time since my last post I decided to post this one without her proof-reading. Because of this you'll have to cut me some slack, I've read it over and tried to catch every mistake, but since I am far more sufficient at writing than proof-reading there are bound to be some mistakes hiding somewhere.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the newest addition, and as always I would love hearing your opinion, both about the plot and how the characters and the relationships between them are developing!

Much love,

CrimsonSnowflake

* * *

_"Life is a succession of moments, to live each one is to succeed." - Corita Kent  
_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Flaming Lure**

Snow, there was snow wherever he turned. Harry hated snow; he had never been able to appreciate it and had never really understood why people rejoiced those few times it arrived in the Shire. It only brought ice and cold with it, two of Harry's worst weaknesses. Due to this, it was only natural that Harry's mood had dropped at the speed of lightning when it became clear that they would have to abandon their original route and instead climb Mount Caradhras.

With a huff, Harry continued walking, grimacing as his right foot fell through the snow, jerking his entire body forward and nearly sending him to his knees. Green eyes darkened as he looked up at what seemed to be a never-ending climb.

"Easy there, Harry," Boromir sounded from behind, reaching out to steady him.

"There is nothing easy about this," Harry grumpily replied, grunting as he jerked his foot up from the hole and took another step before releasing a sigh and sending an apologetic look to the man, "I am sorry, Boromir. Do not let my sour mood drag yours down."

"No need to worry on that part, my friend," Boromir replied, "I have never held much fondness for snow, so it is safe to say that my mood equals yours."

"Really," Harry exclaimed, pleasantly surprised, "then we have something in common: a joined hatred for snow. I can't stand the small flakes, especially when they join together to produce heaps, they bring nothing with them but a miserable cold and a wetness that seeps in wherever you do not desire it."

"Spoken like a man of my taste!" Boromir smiled, wrapping a heavy arm around Harry's shoulders and guiding him through the snow. "Let us stick together then, and help one another in our misery."

And as easy as that, Harry felt his mood lighten. With a small smile on his lips he turned to observe his newfound friend. He had not spoken much with Boromir before then, his time being otherwise occupied by Gimli and the hobbits; he had never really had much time to get to know the man. Boromir had, for the most part, remained a mystery to him, a mystery that was now turning out to be a very pleasant surprise.

He stayed with Boromir for the remainder of that day, relying on him for assistance whenever they reached a particularly trying patch and in return supplying the man with some much needed conversation.

"-Bilbo wouldn't let us, of course," Harry went on, in the middle of telling Boromir a story of his time in the Shire, "but we did it anyway. As it was, I was the only one unfortunate enough to fall off the horse mid-jump, breaking my leg and proving Bilbo right in the process. I was grounded for weeks after that."

"How sorry you must have felt for yourself," Boromir teased, "during those weeks, knowing that you had only yourself to thank."

"I was miserable, even more so when I learned that Merry, Pippin and Frodo had gotten away with it. But then again, I always seemed to be the one to get caught and somehow they always managed to get away with all of our schemes." He smiled, turning to look at the hobbits that were walking a few feet behind them. "They always stayed inside with me though, said it wasn't fair for me being the only one punished when they had been in on it too."

"I have never met such kind-hearted creatures such as the hobbits," Boromir admitted, "They are quite something."

"Yes," Harry agreed, "they are. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful family."

"But listen to me," Harry exclaimed, shaking himself out of the melancholy mood he had stumbled into, "going on and on about myself. What about you, Boromir? What is your family like?"

"Not nearly as carefree as yours I'm afraid," Boromir replied as something dark flashed in his eyes, "but let us not talk of that, it would only dampen our mood."

"If you like," Harry relented, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself as a gust of wind drifted past. Despite Boromir's intentions, the mood had been somewhat ruined. Harry felt awkward and more than a little guilty for bringing up something that Boromir was so obviously uncomfortable with. And so the talk between them grew less and soon enough they separated, unable to bear the discomfited air that had crept upon them.

A couple of hours passed by, the sky, which had previously been clouded, turned blue and the world was brightened by the sun. He was growing tired; his feet constantly falling through the snow, requiring more energy and effort than walking normally would. As a bonus always having to catch himself with his hands put a strain on his wounds that had yet to completely heal.

A flash of blond hair entered his vision and a squeak escaped his lips as his feet were swept out from underneath him. Frantically, Harry reached out to steady himself, grabbing a hold of the back of his attacker's neck. Silky hair brushed gently against his fingers. Startled green eyes looked up to meet calm blue.

"What on earth are you doing?" Harry cried out, cheeks flushing a soft red at the position he now found himself to be in. Like a Lady he was held in Legolas' arms. "Put me down!"

Instead of complying, the elf tightened his grip on the young wizard and began climbing upwards, his feet treading lightly on top of the snow. "If I allowed you continue the way you have, your wounds would open in a matter of hours and then what good would you be to us?"

"I can handle myself, you know" Harry grumpily retorted, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh, I am sure you can," Legolas said, "but it never hurts to accept help when it is offered, especially when one is injured."

When he saw that Harry had yet to be convinced, the elf added, blue eyes shining earnestly, "it would please me greatly if you were to allow me this, Harry."

"Alright," Harry reluctantly relented, relaxing into Legolas' arms, "but only for a little while."

"Thank you," Legolas said, as if it was Harry who had offered to carry _him_.

Strangely enough, there were no teasing remarks thrown their way by their companions, only the occasional raised eyebrow as they passed by. What a sight they must have been, Harry thought, allowing his head to rest on Legolas' shoulder for a moment.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Harry said, after some time spent in silence, "looking after me, I mean. I'm much better than I was. My wounds don't even hurt that much any longer. You should be focusing on taking care of yourself, not devoting your time to me."

Legolas smiled, "I do not need as much care as you do and I have more than enough to spend on the both of us."

"Then it would be better if you spent it on one of the hobbits," Harry replied, "I imagine they need it more than I do."

"Yet I have chosen to bestow it on you," the elf said with an air of finality about him, making it perfectly clear to Harry that he would not relent.

The sound of a commotion behind them cut off any reply Harry might have had, claiming their attention and pushing their conversation to the back of their minds. Legolas turned, bringing Harry with him, to see what was going on. Green eyes widened in surprise as he took in what seemed to be a tense confrontation between Boromir and Aragorn.

"Boromir!" He called, growing more concerned with each second that passed.

The man turned, the Ring clutched in his hand and a shadow covering his face as he sent a dark glare in Harry's direction. A jolt of fear ran through Harry at the murdering intent contained in that glare and he pressed further into Legolas' arms for protection. The man Harry had been talking to and laughing with for the better part of the day was gone.

"Give the ring to Frodo, Boromir," Aragorn called out, drawing the man's attention back to himself.

"Boromir!" Aragorn repeated, his voice growing sharp, when it seemed that Boromir would not obey.

The sound of Aragorn's agitated voice must have struck a chord within the man, for mere seconds later he was back to normal, giving the Ring back to Frodo and trying to play the whole event off as nothing important. It had been a very significant event though, and from that moment on, Harry would not trust Boromir alone with Frodo, no matter how good company the man might be.

"He is affected by the evil of the Ring," Legolas murmured after the man had passed by them, "we shall have to keep an eye on him."

Harry hummed in agreement, concerned green eyes latching onto Boromir's broad back as the Fellowship once again began their trek up the mountain.

* * *

Things went downwards from there on. The weather turned against them, brewing a violent snowstorm to hinder them. Legolas had long since released him to walk on his own feet and moved to the head of the group to scout for any danger. Harry's ears were ringing from the wind's howling, he was freezing cold and despite the fact that they were in constant movement he could not get any warmth whatsoever.

The hobbits were struggling more than him, however, and he forced away all his own misery in order to aid them. He wrapped his cloak around Merry and Pippin, shielding them from the biting wind while at the same time helping them to make their way through the snow, stumbling every now and then.

Two days passed by in this manner, the weather seeming to grow worse with each hour that went by. They could barely afford any time to stop and regain their strength. Stopping meant not moving, not moving meant freezing and freezing meant certain death.

He could hear the hobbits' teeth chattering and brought them closer to himself, tightening his grip on their shoulders. They would not last for much longer, he mused. The Shire had never been a particularly cold place and the hobbits were far from used to the biting cold they found themselves to be surrounded by. Their winters had never seen more than a slight drizzle of snow that never lasted more than a day. At least Harry'd had the advantage of experiencing the cold winters in Scotland during his two years at Hogwarts.

Steeling himself he pushed on, making sure to stay right behind Aragorn so as not to lose the rest of the group. The snowdrift was growing denser, making it near impossible to see anything other than blurry figures.

A slight movement—almost like a shudder—on the inside of his clothes caught his attention, reminding him that he had a warmth seeking snake wrapped around his torso. William had early on sought shelter within Harry's clothing, desperately reaping warmth from the body he was wrapped around. It was a miracle that the snake could still move, Harry thought concerned.

"**William,**" he called out, growing more worried by each second that passed with no sound from the usually talkative snake.

"**William, answer me**!" He tried again, a sliver of panic steadily rising within him when once again he was given no reply. The cold could kill, especially a reptile like his familiar.

William could be dead.

With that awful thought filling his mind, he let go of the hobbits, frantically tearing open his shirt in order to reach the snake. With shaking hands he grabbed a hold of the still body, gently dislodging William to take a proper look at him. He was cold, too cold for Harry's liking and judging by the lack of any movement whatsoever, he was barely breathing.

"Gandalf!" Harry cried, eyes darting back and forth in search of the wizard only to come up empty.

His hands were shaking as he ran them up and down William's body, gently rubbing it in a desperate attempt at warming the snake. It immediately became clear to him that it would not work. He needed something more powerful, something not so easily defeated by the weather. Harry needed magic.

Soft green eyes hardened with determination as Harry drew a deep breath, running his hands over William's body while remembering Gandalf's lessons. He closed his eyes ignoring Merry and Pippin's concerned calls, stoking the fire contained within him and patiently coaxing it to the surface. A sizzling sound reached his ears as the air around him began heating up, melting the snow around him.

It took all his concentration to lure the fire to his hands, while at the same time making sure that the flame inside him did not grow too hot. He kept it going for a few minutes, until he could feel William's breathing easing into a more natural rhythm.

Slowly he released his grip on the snake, taking a step backward in order to reel the flame in. He opened his eyes to see the world painted in an orange hue, he barely registered that his worried companions had gathered around him, only able to focus on the wonderful warmth surrounding him.

He did not want to let it go. Harry wanted to cherish it forever, to keep it alive for as long as he lived. Gone was the desperate urge to check on William, all he cared about was the wonderful feeling that spread through him with each movement the flame made. It was heaven, he concluded, and he would never let it go.

"Harry!" A sharp voice penetrated the lovely haze he had been enveloped in, "Snap out of it!"

A large hand grabbed a hold of his shoulder and yanked, hard. A shock of cold washed over him as the flame was extinguished and the world once again returned to its normal hue.

"You foolish, _foolish_ boy," Gandalf said, his voice harsh as he shook the young wizard in his arms, "What on earth were you thinking?! Did you not realize there was a reason why I have not allowed you to try to temper fire yet?! You could have been consumed by it!"

"I'm sorry," Harry cried, "But William was dying and I had to do something!"

"You should have called me," Gandalf retorted, loosening his grip.

"I did and I always have." Green eyes flashed with a six year old hurt, "but you never come."

The wizard seemed to deflate then, letting Harry go as if burned. He had always known that despite the fact that Harry had settled quite nicely in the Shire, the boy had never truly forgiven Gandalf for leaving him. There had always existed a lingering feeling of abandonment in Harry's heart and Gandalf knew perfectly well that he was the cause of it and it pained him.

"Harry..." The wizard began, taking a step towards his young charge.

"We should move on," Harry cut him off moving closer to William to check on him, "lest the hobbits freeze to death."

"Yes," Gandalf hesitantly relented, "of course, you are right, we must continue."

This was neither the time nor place, Gandalf reasoned, to talk it out with Harry. The young man was still riled up from nearly loosing William and not at all in the state to bring up hurtful happenings from the past. And Harry had never been particularly comfortable talking about feelings in front of others. A time would come for them to talk later.

And so the Fellowship continued moving, trudging their way through waist high snow as the weather worsened. A heavy tension lingered in the air, though strangely enough it did not originate from Harry and Gandalf. The entire group had a feeling of being watched, as if someone was keeping an eye on them. Someone who did not wish them well.

As if to confirm this, Legolas cried out, "There is a fell voice in the air!"

The wind picked up, nearly drowning out Gandalf's voice as the wizard shouted, "It is Saruman!"

"Move!" Harry shouted as a flash of thunder illuminated the sky, "If we stay here we'll be like sitting ducks!"

"And where are we to go?!" Boromir shouted back, "we can barely see what is in front of us, if we move with haste now we are very much likely to tumble off a cliff!"

"Well we cannot stay here!" Harry irately replied.

The man opened his mouth, about to argue against Harry when a loud and ominous cracking sound reached their ears.

"Out of the way!" Aragorn shouted as a boulder descended towards them.

A curse flew past Harry's lips as he jumped out of the way, pressing himself against the mountain side and barely avoiding being crushed. He could literally feel the boulder sweeping past him and fall into the abyss below.

"See!" Harry shouted angrily, "Sitting ducks!"

He could hear Gandalf's futile chanting in the background, desperately trying to tame the wrath of the newly awakened mountain. It was no use, mere seconds later a great flash of lightning struck the top of the mountain, sending an array of boulders and snow upon them.

"Take cover!" Gandalf shouted, and they all threw themselves at the mountain wall, frantically hanging onto every nook and cranny they could find as the onslaught violently washed over them.

The world became a blur of white.

Snow was packed tightly around him, enveloping him in a firm hold that was nearly impossible to break out of. His breath had been knocked from him at the impact, and the snow was so jam-packed that only the slightest hint of oxygen was allowed to linger, leaving Harry to gasp for air.

Frantically, he began digging his way out. His fingers scratching at the hard snow, trembling as the harsh cold began settling in and his limbs grew numb. He had to get out; his lungs were burning, screaming for air. Dark spots clouded his vision, and he could feel himself grow fainter with every second that passed by.

With one last forceful push, driven more by determination than any kind of strength, his hand was flailing in the air, searching for anything to hold on to and drag himself out. A strong hand grabbed his, and with a forceful tug, Harry was free.

Air rushed into his lungs, burning on the way down, almost seeming to do more damage than the lack of it had. He dropped to his knees, barely managing to catch himself as his limbs gave out on him. Slowly the world, which had been spinning, righted itself, allowing Harry a small reprieve to compose himself.

He could vaguely hear the rest of the company around him, some—namely Gimli and Sam—on their knees like him, trying to catch their breath. The others were already standing, ready to make a new plan of action.

"We cannot stay here!" Harry heard someone cry out, Aragorn or Boromir—he couldn't quite distinguish.

Carefully, Harry pushed himself back onto his feet, moving to join the others on shaking limbs. Smiling gratefully as Gimli's supporting hand came to rest on the small of his back; Harry gently leaned into the dwarf. Sighing softly as his trembling muscles was given reprieve to recover, the young man tuned into the conversation unfolding before him.

"A decision must be made now, Gandalf," Aragorn urged, his concerned gaze flying to the hobbits, "our little friends will not last long in this weather."

"Moria, Gandalf," Gimli spoke up, "Let us go into the mines, my cousin Balin would gladly receive us with a feast and a roaring fire to warm us."

"So this is what it has come to," The wizard murmured to himself, seemingly unaware that they could all hear him, before shaking off the trance he had been caught in, "then let us have the Ringbearer decide. Frodo?"

"Moving forward and spiting the weather or climbing down the mountain to Moria, those are our options, yes?" Frodo questioned, looking to Gandalf for confirmation.

"Yes," Gandalf replied, smiling gently down at the hobbit while a glint of worry lingered in his eyes.

Big blue eyes darted nervously back and forth, taking in the faces of the entire group before Frodo bit his lip and decided, "The mines of Moria, we go through the mines of Moria."

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	8. Into the Darkness We Go

**Title:** Strange Connections

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **There's some minor violence and language that some of the younger readers might not appreciate (nothing too bad though), so just giving you a heads up about that!

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story._

**A/N:  
**Yaaay! I have finally finished another chapter! I'm actually very satisfied with this one, things are progressing splendidly and I really feel as if I managed to portray Harry's relationship with both Gimli and Boromir properly. I have to warn you though, I still haven't managed to get a hold of my beta, so this chapter has also been edited and proofread by me, so I apologize if there are any mistakes in there somewhere.

Anyway, I can't wait to hear what you think about the chapter, so pleeeeaaase leave a review for me so i can get your opinion! :D

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_" A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing." - George Bernard Shaw_

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**Chapter 7**

**Into the darkness we go**

The trek down the mountain was tough, almost tougher than climbing it had been. His knees were aching from the strain of having to keep from tumbling down the mountain, and his mood seemed to grow darker with every step he took towards Moria. Perhaps it was that each step forward seemed to be a reminder that their struggle through the snow and icy cold had been of no use. Or maybe it simply was a general feeling spreading through the company that something was grievously wrong.

Boromir had retreated into himself, sending the occasional guilty look in Harry's direction, and the cloud looming over his head steadily darkened. It had taken them two days to reach the foot of the mountain and the man of Gondor had not spoken a word the whole way down. Safe to say, Harry was growing worried.

The only one who appeared to be in what could resemble a good mood was William, though it was only each time he successfully managed to ward off Legolas. The snake had always held some resentment towards the elf, but now it seemed to have reached new heights. Any sound the blond made set off a tirade of irritated hissing, each step too close to Harry served as permission for a violent bite.

"**He should know his place,**" William hissed, following Legolas with sharp eyes from where he was curled around Harry's neck, "**he is not worthy.**"

"**Worthy? Of what?**" Harry asked, sending Legolas an apologetic smile.

"**Of you, of being your mate and of providing you with hatchlings, I could go on and on, but I do believe you get the point.**"

"**Oh, I don't know,**" Harry teased, "**he is not so bad. Frankly, the mere fact that he has yet to skin you speaks highly of him. Such patience and restraint could certainly come in handy when dealing with hatchlings.**"

A gasp, if it could be considered as such, of outrage escaped William as he reared back, horrified to hear those words from Harry's lips. "**You dare?! You would consider him a candidate?!**"

"**Does it matter?**" Harry winced as he stumbled slightly, "**I am not planning on mating nor am I considering anyone. Besides, Legolas is my teacher, it would hardly be proper.**"

"**He seems to think it proper,**" William grumpily replied, "**The way he stares at you, his **_**scent, **_**it is revolting.** **I would have you refuse should he ever give you an offer.**"

"**It is a very good thing then, that Legolas is not interested in me, and will not be making the offer you speak so disgustedly of,**" Green eyes pierced the snake with a serious look, "**I do understand that you have a possessive streak when it comes to me, William, but sometimes it would be best if you could reign it in, if only slightly.** **You are not going to lose me to Legolas or anyone else, for that matter.**"

William huffed, "**On this matter I will not relent.**"

Rolling his eyes, Harry settled on ignoring the snake. There was no convincing him when he was in such a mood and discussing it with him would only make matters worse. Instead, he chose to focus on the changing scenery surrounding him. The high tops covered in snow had all but disappeared to be replaced by bare rock, a dark lake and even some slight dusting of yellow grass. Unfortunately, the sun had taken its leave, and nothing but foreboding shadows were left in its wake.

"Perhaps we should rest for the day," Aragorn suggested, his weary eyes observing the darkness.

"No," Gandalf replied, "continuing on is vital of us finding the entrance."

Patting the mountain wall, the wizard continued with a small smile, "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed, not even its own masters can find it. However, we are fortunate tonight, for we have with us the only thing that could make the door visible."

"What's that?" Pippin piped up, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"The moon, Peregrin Took, we have the moon." And in that moment, the clouds parted allowing a single ray of moonlight to shine through.

Harry had never seen anything quite like it. Lines, glowing brightly, appeared on the stone wall, moving in an intricate and complicated pattern that he would have no chance of memorizing. An arch with a crown centred underneath it formed, with two small trees and their branches wrapped around its columns. And from what little Bilbo had taught him of the language; Harry could distinguish some sort of elvish writing situated right above it.

"What does it say?" Harry questioned, turning towards the other wizard in the company.

"It reads: The doors of Durin, speak friend and enter."

"Well that is simple, isn't it?" Harry bit his lip, "almost a bit too easy."

"What? What is too easy?" Pippin piped up from where he was tiredly leaning against Merry.

"Well..." Gandalf began, "I suppose it means that if you are a friend you should speak the password and the doors will open."

"What is the password then?" The hobbit asked, daring to leave his cousin to move closer to the old man.

The wizard sent Pippin an irritated glance before saying, "if you would give me some time, Pippin, I will try to find an answer to your question."

They settled down, passing out food and water between themselves. Gandalf wandered back and forth muttering furiously to himself as he attempted to solve the puzzle laid out before him, completely unaware of the concerned green eyes constantly following him. Despite their previous argument Harry had noticed something wrong with the wizard, as if something ominous was weighing down on him. He knew better than to question the old man about it, though, it would only lead to another fight. Harry could not deal with another falling out.

Hours passed by and what had originally been a welcomed break turned into a test of their patience. The group was growing restless, eager to get going, to escape the looming darkness of the walls of Moria.

"I once knew every spell in the tongues of elves, men and orcs!" Gandalf cried frustrated, "and yet I still cannot open these blasted doors!"

"Well," Frodo stepped forward, sending the wizard a cautious look, "what if you do not need a spell? What if it's a riddle?"

"Yes..." Gandalf said, "Go on Frodo."

"It says, speak _friend_ and enter. What is the elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon!" The old wizard called out, his voice echoing through the air.

The mountain groaned deeply as a large, straight line split the glowing arch in two. The doors opened, swinging out to reveal an oppressing darkness waiting for them. Harry shivered; the mere sight of the opened doors was a foreboding omen to him. Nothing good could come from their journey through the dark of Moria. He nearly wanted to turn around right then and there and brave the dangers of Caradhras.

"Come along then," Gandalf called out, "let us not waste more time than necessary."

With careful steps the group made their way into the mountain, a wave of stuffy, old air hitting them as they passed the threshold. The darkness was as oppressing as it seemed and Harry struggled for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the new lack of light. What greeted him was truly horrific.

Skeletons, twisted and broken lay scattered around, littering the ground and making it near impossible to avoid stepping on them, as testified by the crunch echoing through the air as Harry took another step forward. Grimacing, Harry lifted his foot and looked down at the shattered bones beneath him. He shuddered, looking up as a horrified voice reached his ears.

"This is no mine..." Boromir said, eyes anxiously taking in the shadows and whatever danger lurking there, "this is a tomb. Coming here was a humongous mistake, it will be our death! Get out, now!"

Before Harry had the time to obey and move towards the exit, a terrified scream resonated through the air. Startled, he spun around, nearly stumbling in his haste. Green eyes widened in horror at the sight that greeted him.

"Shit!" He cursed, immediately reaching for his bow and arrow at the sight of Frodo dangling from a humongous tentacle.

It had been his worst nightmare throughout their entire journey, a fear that was never far from the surface. He didn't know what he would do should Frodo be hurt. With shaking fingers he notched an arrow, barely noticing as Aragorn and Boromir ran past him to cut at the monster.

"Steady there, Harry," Legolas joined him, his own bow already clutched in his hands, firing arrows at an impressive speed, "you must calm yourself, lest you miss and hit Frodo."

"I know that," Harry agitatedly bit back, drawing the string back before taking a deep breath and releasing the arrow. It flew steady, despite the trembling hand that had released it. The arrow did not hit its intended mark however, namely the tentacle holding Frodo; instead it imbedded itself right in the centre of the monsters eye.

A horrible shriek pierced the air as the monster began violently trashing about in pain, brutally throwing Frodo high up in the air while focusing all its fury on the puny beings surrounding it. Its large tentacles shot out, swiping at the company in an attempt to fling them into the hard mountain wall.

Screaming, Harry dropped his bow and arrows and threw himself to the ground, immediately rolling to the left and barely managing to avoid being hit by one of the monster's humongous limbs. A strangled cry escaped his throat as something cold and wet wrapped around his left ankle, tugging harshly at his foot in an attempt to drag him into the murky water.

"Harry!" Aragorn shouted as Boromir ran past him into the mine with Frodo in his arms, "Shit, Legolas, Gimli, help him!"

Desperately, Harry's fingers scrambled for anything to hold onto, scratching at the ground as he was dragged further and further into the cold water. A strong, warm and calloused hand suddenly wrapped around his arm, halting his descent into the water for only a second. That was all Gimli needed to raise his axe with a roar and chop off the appendage wrapped around his foot. Dark blood sprayed through the air, covering the lower part of Harry's body before he had the time to scramble to his feet.

"Come along, laddie!" Gimli shouted, running towards the entrance of the mine.

A loud roar came from the monster behind them, just as an array of tentacles shot out of the water. Legolas' hand, still holding onto him, began dragging him towards safety, forcing him to move his trembling feet. He barely had any time to scoop up his bow and arrows. Just as the three of them had gotten safely into the mine, the entrance collapsed in on itself, large boulders dropping from the ceiling to seal them in.

An overwhelming darkness enveloped them.

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For three days they had travelled through the many and confusing halls of Moria. It was as if they were making their way blindly through the darkness, with no sense of direction and absolutely no idea of where they were going. Only Gandalf seemed to have a slight inkling, but even that seemed to dwindle as the days passed by.

"Watch your step here, Harry," Gimli said, voice unusually quiet as it had been throughout their entire journey in Moria, "the stone looks a bit loose. One wrong step and you could tumble down across the edge."

As they had made their way through the darkness it had grown increasingly obvious that the welcome of a great feast and roaring fires Gimli had anticipated would not happen. The only sight of any dwarves they had seen was at the entrance where the skeletons had rested. In fact, there was no sign of _any _living being amongst the array of rock and mithril.

"Here," Boromir, who had been walking quietly behind him for the past hour, said, "I'll give you a hand."

"Thank you, Boromir," Harry smiled, bracing himself as the man's hands wrapped around his waist and almost effortlessly lifted him onto more steady ground.

The group continued on for hours, trekking through dangerous terrain while trying to remain as quiet as possible. Gandalf had reminded them that anything, be it good or bad, could linger in the darkness surrounding them and they should therefore take certain precautions not to be discovered.

"**I do not like it here,**" William suddenly piped up, poking his head out from Harry's shirt to smell their surroundings, "**It is far too cold and wet, and it smells like ashes.**"

"**Like ashes?**" It struck Harry as an odd thing to say, "**I do not smell any ashes.**"

"**Well your nose is not as superior as my tongue; of course you wouldn't smell any ashes. It simply lingers in the air, a small whisper. Even I barely caught wind of it.**"

"**It's a bit odd, isn't it?**"

"**I would not say odd, it is more suspicious than odd.**" William said, tongue flickering out in rapid succession, "**What is odd, is the fact that your mentor has yet to say anything about the creature following us.**"

"**What?!**" Harry exclaimed loudly, the hiss easily reaching his companions and serving to draw their attention.

"**The creature has been on our trail for the most part of the day now. It surprises me that the blasted elf has yet to hear it; it ventures quite close at times. It is just another testimony of why he is far from worthy of you, I suppose. How is he to protect you if he cannot sense such an obvious danger?"**

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Gandalf's clear voice interrupted their conversation as the wizard approached him.

"William has just informed me that it seems something is following us," Harry replied, "and has been for a while."

"Ah yes, he is indeed a bright one that snake of yours, Harry," Gandalf said, a slight smile on his face, falling into step with the young man as the group continued moving.

"The creature following us is known as Gollum and he has been on our trail for the last three days."

"And we are to allow this?" Harry questioned

"He is of no harm to us yet, he may even prove to be of use to us in the future." The wizard answered, "It is not us he is seeking, it just so happens to be that we possess what he is looking for."

"Did you say Gollum?" Frodo joined them, "I think I've heard that name before."

"Bilbo's mentioned him briefly a couple of times," Harry replied, distracted by a sudden lanky shadow moving in the distance.

"Yes, Bilbo's meeting with Gollum was a fateful one indeed; it turned out to be far more important than I ever imagined it would." Gandalf commented.

"He is a pitiful creature, is he not?" Frodo mused.

"Pitiful?" Gandalf replied, "He is what the Ring has warped him into, it has bestowed upon him an unnatural long life and has corrupted both his heart and mind. It is his most beloved possession. Though I believe our elf could tell you more of him, he stayed in Mirkwood for a while, did he not, Legolas?"

"Yes, he did," The elf came to join them, assisting Gandalf as they reached a steep hill, "We treated him as fairly as can be expected, we gave him both good food and fresh water, though he complained more often than not. And one day he escaped and before we could track him down he disappeared, last we heard he had been captured by a legion of orcs."

"If he was captured by orcs," Harry said, the words slowly crossing his lips, "Why would he be here? I very much doubt he could escape a whole legion of orcs."

"Who says he escaped?" The old wizard answered as they reached the top of the hill, being greeted by the sight of three different pathways.

"They released him?" Frodo whispered in astonishment, the hobbits large eyes widening almost comically. "Why would they do that?"

"Why my dear Frodo," Gandalf exclaimed, as if surprised, "can you not imagine why? What better way to track down the whereabouts of the Ring than to let loose the very creature whose possession it has been in for years, and who is so obsessed and drawn to it that he would do anything to reach it?"

"Then we should strike him down now, before he has the chance to do so to us," The little hobbit fiercely said, grasping the hilt of Sting.

"Frodo!" Harry exclaimed, surprised green eyes flashing to his friend, "that is a horrible thing to say!"

"It is the truth, is it not?"

"You should not be so eager to take a life, Frodo," Gandalf murmured, his bushy eyebrows furrowing as a troubled look passed across his face, "The life you spare today, may very well be a life that saves your own tomorrow."

"Is something the matter, Gandalf?" Aragorn, who had scarce spoken two words that day, suddenly piped up.

"We should take a break, I think," the wizard replied, "I have no recollection of this place."

And with that the subject of Gollum was closed.

Food was split evenly between each member of the group as they settled down to rest against a cluster of rocks. The air was thick with tension and as a result of that the conversation was sparse, only the quiet whispering between Merry and Pippin could resemble a proper dialogue.

"I can't imagine how they stand it," Boromir said as he joined Harry where he was sitting, "the dwarves I mean. How can they live out their days in this cold and darkness without seeing a single ray of light for weeks? It must be unbearable."

"Not necessarily," Harry commented, "it depends on what you're used to I expect. They find beauty in the mountains, like you find beauty in your city."

"Then they have an odd perspective of what beauty is," The man murmured, drawing closer to Harry and wrapping an arm around him as a shiver went through him.

Harry smiled humorously, gratefully accepting the extra warmth Boromir provided, "I think it's all the gold and mithril that lures them in, you must admit it is a beautiful sight to behold."

"Beautiful, yes, but it is nothing when compared to the glory of Gondor."

"Don't let Gimli hear you say that," Harry responded, "he'll be furious with you. Next thing you know you'll be lying on the ground with the handle of an axe inserted up your arse."

"You always paint such pretty pictures in my mind, dear Harry," Boromir said.

"It's what I live for," Harry offhandedly commented, before he added, "Well, that and leeching warmth off of you, of course."

The man chuckled, an amused and happy glint appearing in his eyes for the first time in several days. Squeezing Harry more tightly against him, the man replied, "You can use me whenever you like, Harry. My warmth and I are more than happy to assist you."

A cough suddenly sounded from behind them, interrupting whatever reply Harry could have come up with.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," Gimli said in a gruff voice, sending a suspicious look Boromir's way.

"Not at all," the man replied, as if completely unfazed by the dwarf, "we were simply having a friendly conversation."

"It sounded a little _too _friendly, if you ask me," Gimli grumbled, crossing his arms and taking a step forward.

It had only been a matter of time, Harry mused, before Gimli took note of the increasing amount of time Harry had begun to spend with the man of Gondor. Harry knew perfectly well that dwarves, whether it came to gold or people, were rather possessive creatures, they did not like to share. As such, Harry had been expecting Gimli to step forward and lay claim to him for a while now. In fact, it surprised him that it had taken his friend such a long time to do it.

Gimli took a hold of Harry's hand, and dragged him up so he was standing beside him, possessively keeping a hold of him. "I have been watching the two of you for a while now, and I must say I do not, in the slightest, appreciate the manner in which you have approached him. It's improper, the way you look at him, the way you speak to him."

"Improper?" Boromir exclaimed, surprised, "What is improper about it? I have not approached him in an unseemly manner and I have not touched him in any way that could be considered offensive. In fact, I have been nothing but amiable and friendly."

"Gimli..." Harry began, only to be cut off.

"Not offensive?" Gimli shot back, his cheeks turning red in indignation, "And what do you call the display I just witnessed?! Offering to let him use you whenever he likes, telling him that you would be more than happy to share your warmth with him! Why don't you drop your trousers and offer your cock to him while you're at it!"

"Gimli!" Harry shouted this time, green eyes flashing in anger as he tugged his arm free of Gimli's grip, "That was uncalled for! There was nothing improper about his offer! He was simply being kind!"

By now the rest of the group had joined them, wearily observing the confrontation while debating whether or not they should step in and end the argument, lest it get out of hand.

"Kind?" Gimli replied, his voice losing its harsh edge as he addressed his friend, "You are too naive, Harry, soon enough that kindness will transform into something else entirely, something of a more sinister nature."

"For goodness sake," Harry threw his hands out in exasperation, "You are worse than William! While I appreciate your concern Gimli, I can take care of myself and if I am in any danger of ruthlessly being taken advantage of by Boromir, I assure you a mere wave of my hand will have him running the other way. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Boromir will certainly not be offering me his cock any time in the future."

"Let's end it at that, shall we?" Gandalf suddenly cut in before Gimli could reply, "there is no need to throw even more wood into the fire and cause hostility amongst ourselves. Let us focus on other matters, such as the fact that while you were all busy quarrelling I have found the right passageway."

The tension lingered in the air as Gimli and Boromir reluctantly dropped the subject, following the rest of the group as they removed any evidence of them having been there and moved on with their journey.

Their surroundings seemed to grow colder the further down the passageway they travelled. The ground descended in a steep hill, which accompanied by a scatter of loose pebbles made it near impossible for Harry to stay on his feet. Only Aragorn's steady hand, which had grabbed a hold of him the first time he had been about to fall, kept him from a rather intimate meeting with the ground.

Soon enough the hill evened out and they reached the end of the passageway, which now expanded into a massive hall. Humongous pillars shot up from the ground only to disappear into the ceiling far above them. Statues, some whole and others smashed, lined the stone walls and seemed to leer forebodingly at them. All in all, the hall had an ominous air about it.

"Is it not a grand sight to see?" Gimli's quiet voice, filled with awe and tenderness, echoed through the vast hall.

"I have certainly not seen anything like it," Harry commented, smiling tentatively in an attempt to soothe the tension that had lingered between them since their fight.

A warm grin was his only reply.

"Indeed," Gandalf added, "The dwarves truly outdid themselves when they created Moria. They dug both deeper and wider than they had ever dared to before."

"They were driven by greed," Legolas remarked distastefully when he joined them, ignoring the heated glare Gimli sent his way, "as most dwarves usually are. And in the end I suppose that became their downfall."

"How so?" Harry questioned curiously.

"They dug too deep," the elf replied, turning to look at Harry with grave eyes, "and awakened a monster from the early ages."

Gimli scoffed, "Those are only rumours, and they have no hold to them. We never got any word from Balin that they ever encountered anything of the sort."

"Well you wouldn't, would you?" Legolas retorted, for once not in an unkind way, but rather as if Gimli should already know what he was talking about, "Do you not agree that dwarves are a prideful race? The embarrassment would have been too great for your cousin and the humiliation of having to announce his mistake to his kin would have discouraged him from sending word."

"I..." Gimli began quietly, "I admit Balin was always very conscious of doing his family proud, but I am certain he would have alerted his own kin had such a danger occurred."

"Yes," Gandalf cut in, a fond smile on his face despite their situation, "Family is a wonderful thing, is it not? The lengths they would go to protect their kin is a breathtaking example of love. Do you not agree, Harry?"

"I would say so, yes," Harry smiled hesitantly, not feeling quite at liberty to express his opinion on the matter considering his lack of experience with family. While both Bilbo and Frodo had been a wonderful family, they could not make up for the twelve years he had spent in the home of the Dursleys. Those lonely years of watching, but never receiving love had been ingrained in his heart, and he was quite certain that he would never know the love a mother bestows on her child. In the end he had come to terms with it.

A small hand encircling his wrist drew him from his gloomy thoughts. And Harry felt warmth spread through him as Frodo's blue eyes looked up at him, a reassuring glint lingering in his innocent gaze.

Yes, he mused, he had all the love he would ever need.

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**To Be Continued**


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